


The Philosopher's Stone

by SharaRaizel



Series: The Fullmetal Wizard [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaRaizel/pseuds/SharaRaizel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric activates the transmutation circles and is sent back to the alternate reality on the other side of Truth's Gate... But what if he finds himself somewhere just outside of Hogsmead and happens to run into a certain Professor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Alchemist

Edward woke with a start and looked around at his surroundings.  His golden eyes searched for his brother, Alphonse, but no one was in sight.  He was sprawled out on his back in the middle of a country road, but the landscape was foreign to him.  This did not look like Amestris.   It appeared to be summer, but the temperature was cooler then he was used to for the season, and there was a grayish-green mountain range in the distance.  Edward knew for a fact that there were no mountains like those in Amestris. The mountains in Amestris were either in the snow-covered north or in the desert wastelands in the south.  Perhaps he was in Xing, but something told him he wasn’t.  He tried to remember how he got there but came up blank.  He closed his eyes and tried to recall the last thing he  _ did _ remember.    

The most recent memory he could recall was when he’d woken up and saw Rose.  She had told him that his brother Alphonse had used the Philosopher’s Stone to transmute his body and bring him back to life after Envy had killed him.  Al was gone and the Philosopher’s Stone with him.  In return for his sacrifice Edward was whole again.  He had his arm and leg back, but at the cost of Al’s life.  That was something he knew he couldn’t allow.  He had told Rose to leave and set the room up so that he could destroy it and bring Al back.  The last thing he remembered was activating the transmutation circles he’d drawn on his body so that he could sacrifice his own life in exchange for Alphonse’s. After the ruins were activated he saw the doors of Truth’s Gate open for him and that’s where his mind goes blank.  But if it had worked then why was he still alive?

“Something must have gone wrong,” Edward groaned, placing his right hand over his face, but something felt wrong.  For one, he was wearing different clothes than the ones he’d worn in his last coherent memory.  He was wearing a white button up shirt under a light brown vest, tan pants, a brown trench coat and brown leather shoes instead of his custom black boots, pants, sleeveless shirt, overcoat and red cloak.  The only articles of clothing that he even remotely recognized as his own were his usual white gloves and the chain latched to his belt loop that was connected to a pocket watch that marked him as a State Alchemist of Amestris.

He looked at his right hand and removed the glove.  Instead of the flesh and blood hand that he had been given back after Al had sacrificed his life to revive him, it was his automail hand again.  It was then he realized that he couldn’t feel his left leg.  It too was an automail prosthetic limb again.  Had the exchange worked after all at the expense of him having to live with automail prosthetics again?  If so, where was Al?  Where was  _ he _ for that matter?  Why was he wearing different clothes?  Had he actually gone through to the other side of the Gate like Hohenheim?  If so, was this the effect of some sort of exchange for going through the Gate?  There were too many unanswered questions and no clear way to receive any answers.

With a sigh he pulled himself up off the ground and inspected his automail limbs to make sure that they were in working order.  He was pleased to find that they were.  It was as if Winry, his childhood friend and mechanic, had just finished tuning and oiling them.  He did a few experimental kicks and jabs to make sure that the movements were fluid and natural.  Once he was satisfied with the functions of his prosthetic limbs he wondered if he was still able to perform alchemy.  He transmuted the guard plate on his automail forearm into a blade and back to normal again perfectly.  He tried a few other simple transmutations, relieved but also confused as to why he still had this ability.  Even if he had passed through Truth’s Gate surely it would have cost him more than two limbs and a change of clothes.

He then figured that since it was unlikely that he’d be getting any answers to these questions anytime soon he might as well find shelter for the night. He began to look around at his surroundings more carefully for signs of civilization and noticed a rucksack nearby.  He didn’t recognize it as his, but, then again, he was wearing clothes that he didn’t recall owning in the first place.  He looked through the questionable bag and discovered that its contents were unmistakably his.  Inside it he found his missing black clothes complete with his boots, a couple of his prized photos that Winry had insisted that he take with him on his travels, and a maintenance kit for his automail that had also been given to him by Winry.  He decided to follow the road towards the mountains in hopes of finding a town or village at its base.  

After a few hours of walking he found what he was looking for.  A signpost outside the nearest building told him that the village was called Hogsmeade.  It was twilight so some of the shops were closing up for the evening. Edward walked through the streets looking for an inn.  He observed that the village was full of people dressed in strange brightly colored robes and hats.

‘ _ I’m definitely not in Amestris _ ,’ Edward thought.

He then unintentionally bumped into a mountain of a man while he was gawking at the villagers’ strange clothing.

‘ _ Shit! _ ’ Edward gaped.  ‘ _ That man is huge! _ ’

“Well ‘ello there,” the giant boomed in a language he wasn’t, and yet somehow was, familiar with. “Sorry ‘bout that.  Didn’t mean ta knock ya over.”

The man held out a spade-sized hand and pulled the amazed Edward to his feet.

“I’m Rubeus Hagrid.”

“Edward Elric,” the boy managed to spit out, finding he was apparently fluent in whatever language it was that the man spoke.  He had no problem understanding what was being said by this Hagrid person and found he could also speak that same language without a hint of a foreign accent.  It was as if it was his primary language, but he knew that it was a far cry from the Amestrian dialect.  Just what was going on here?

“Who’s your new friend Hagrid?” a soft voice asked in the same language.

A tall old man, possibly the oldest looking man Edward had ever seen, appeared from behind the giant’s great bulk.  He was dressed in purple star patterned robes and wore a matching hat.  He had a long well kept silvery beard and wore half-moon spectacles on a crooked nose in front of stunning blue eyes.

“Says ‘is name is Edward Elric, Professor,” Hagrid replied promptly.

“Ah,” was all the old man said, smiling as he looked at Edward over the rims of his glasses.  “Would you care to join us for a drink, Mister Elric?  I’m buying.”

Edward felt that it would be rude to say no, so he reluctantly agreed.  He was ushered into a pub called the Three Broomsticks behind the old man by Hagrid and sat down with them at a private booth.  They ordered a drink called Butterbeer and were served by a lovely woman who turned out to be the proprietor of the place, Madame Rosmerta.  The old man promptly paid her and wished her a good evening.  He handed out the drinks and Edward took his eagerly, realizing just how thirsty he was after seeing how good the drink looked and smelled.  It tasted even better.

“Thank you, ah…” Edward paused looking at the old man.

“Oh, forgive me,” he chuckled.  “My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.  Most call me Dumbledore or Professor.”

“And what is it that you are a professor of exactly?” Edward asked.

“Ya mean ya don’t know who this man is?” Hagrid asked amazed.  “He’s only one of the most famous wizards of our time!”

Edward choked on his drink.

“Excuse me, but did you say ‘wizard?’”

Hagrid’s expression became perplexed.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore smiled, a knowing look creeping into his eyes.  “I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  And what, if I may ask, is your occupation, young man?”

“I’m an alchemist,” Edward answered slowly, deciding that if these people believed in magic, alchemy wouldn’t be that far of a stretch.  “But that’s a science.  Wizardry is just – lunacy!  It’s impossible.”

Hagrid looked amazed.

“’Ow can ya say tha’ magic don’ exist if yer ‘n alchemist?  Alchemy an’ magic go hand ‘n hand don’ they, Professor?  You don’t think ee’s a muggle, do ya?” he asked Dumbledore.

The old man shook his head.

“He would not have been able to enter this village if he was,” came the reasonable reply.

“What’s a muggle?” Edward asked.

“They’re non-magic folk,” Hagrid answered automatically, still staring at Edward in bewildered amazement.

“It would seem we have a lot to discuss, young alchemist.” Dumbledore smiled gleefully while signaling Madame Rosmerta for another round of Butterbeer. 

After a few more drinks, idle chatter, and a rather tempting offer of a free place to stay, Edward accompanied the two men out of the little village to a nearby castle that turned out to be the school they’d mentioned earlier.  Hagrid took his leave once they reached the grounds and headed for a hut at the edge of a forest.  Edward followed Dumbledore through the castle’s many halls, amazed by the moving staircases and the talking paintings that hung on the walls on the way to the headmaster’s office.  He realized that, if he was not simply dreaming, he was not only in a different country but possibly another world or dimension altogether like Hohenheim had tried to tell him about the first time he was on this side of Truth’s Gate.  But hadn’t his father ended up on this side of the Gate as well in a place called London?  If he’d actually gone through the Gate as well for a second time then why hadn’t he ended up where his father was like he had the first time?  Putting these questions aside for the moment, Edward followed Dumbledore into the headmaster’s office and asked him about this world that he now found himself in.

He listened long and hard to the old man’s lecture, trying hard to absorb as much information as possible no matter how impossible it seemed.  He was reluctant to do so, but in exchange for the information he’d been given he told Dumbledore about his ever-growing theory of coming from a different world.  He spoke about his country and it’s alchemy, which sounded a little different from this world’s.  Dumbledore, surprisingly, didn’t find his theory one bit crazy, and rather seemed to agree with him about the existence of other worlds or “realities” as he’d put it, seeing as he’d never heard of Amestris, but thought it sounded very similar to a country he knew as Germany.  He also told Edward that there was indeed a city called London in this world, but that he had never heard of a man by the name of Van Hohenheim.  They began to talk long and hard about alchemy. Dumbledore quickly became impressed with the young man before him and decided to offer him a job.

“Who?  Me?  A teacher here?” Edward asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded.  “I want you to teach alchemy.  It’s not a subject many are familiar with in this world and I know that not many of the students will develop a knack for it, but it will be viewed as an impressive class for us to offer here at Hogwarts.  And who better than you to teach it?  Besides, this school has some of the best resources that you could use to help find a way back to your own world.  As a teacher here, even of the student-teacher variety, you’d have unlimited access to our library’s books and records in the restricted section and even some higher than average privileges at the Ministry of Magic’s library.”

“But, sir,” Edward protested, stumbling over the ridiculous and improbable sounding words that a younger Edward would have sneered at. “This is a… wizarding school. I don’t know any… magic and I’m only seventeen!”

“That is a problem,” Dumbledore agreed, “but one that can easily be remedied.  The summer break has only just begun.  I’m sure that you’re more than capable of completing a basic education in magic before the start of term and pass the standard here.  Of course the Ministry will come to inquire about you due to your young age, but, again, I’m sure you are more than capable of passing their tests for a teaching license to work here.  Of course, you’d be hired as a student-teacher until you reach the age of twenty, but I’m sure that if you prove your worth to the ministry, they’d make an exception and appoint you an official teacher after your first or second year here if you mentor under a more practiced teacher for a time.  Are there any other concerns?”

Edward sighed.  He should be thrilled about the opportunities that a job at this school could offer him in his efforts to return home, but he felt Dumbledore had the right to know just exactly who he was signing on.  He could tell that the old man had been completely honest with him this whole time and deserved an equal amount of honesty in return. He removed his right glove and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his mechanical arm.  Dumbledore analyzed it wordlessly before smiling.

“I hadn’t realized that you’d lost that limb.  Muggle made isn’t it?  It’s built amazingly well.  No one needs to know about it, except perhaps the ministry’s inquiry staff and Madam Pomfrey, this school’s residing healer.  I see no problem having you on my staff with a prosthetic.”

“I have two actually,” Edward muttered, raising his left pant leg a little to reveal the automail.  “My leg is like my arm.  I’d be of no use to you if either of them should break down.  My mechanic isn’t… accessible.”

“Not to worry.  We have spells that can fix them.  How’d you lose your arm and leg?” Dumbledore asked, intrigued.

“I lost them during a time of civil war within my country,” Edward lied easily.  He’d been telling that story for so long that he almost believed it himself.

“I see,” Dumbledore replied.  “During an alchemy attempt?”

Edward hadn’t expected a follow up question, but, not wanting to lie any more than he had to, he nodded.

“You could say that.”

Dumbledore could tell that the boy didn’t want to explain any further about the loss of his limbs and let the matter drop.  He informed Edward that since he was going to be tutored in magic over the next two months he would need to go out and get supplies with Hagrid later.  They had dinner together in the office and after a few drinks Edward was brought to one of the school’s guest suits that would be his during his stay over the summer.  The next day Dumbledore sent Edward off to London with Hagrid where they shopped in the wizarding market place: Diagon Alley.

After looking around the curious surroundings before him the first thing that Edward acquired was a wand.  The young alchemist had scoffed at the very idea of a stick that could perform ‘magic’ like some silly street magician until he picked up the first wand handed to him and watched it blast a bottle of ink to smithereens seemingly of its own accord.  He became more cautious and open to the concept of a ‘wand’ after that, deciding to think of the fancy stick as a medium to channel energy much like a transmutation circle was used in alchemy.  To him it felt like hours before he finally found one that he could wield without it either blowing something up or having it snatched out of his hands by the shopkeeper, Mr. Ollivander.  In fact he was quite relieved and pleased to see one spouting silver and gold ribbons from its end the moment it touched his hand.  Ollivander had found out about the automail arm when he took Edward’s arm measurements and claimed that the wand would work better in a real flesh and blood hand. So, even though Edward was ambidextrous, the wand that Ollivander ended up giving him was a sturdy left-handed wand made from flexible willow, eleven-and-a-half inches long with a unicorn hair core.

Edward and Hagrid bought other important items as well like potions supplies, quills, ink, parchment and books.  Edward ended up purchasing many books.  Quite a few of them were on alchemy.  He wanted to know what this world’s use of alchemy was like and see which texts he might find useful for his class should he pass Dumbledore’s rather high expectations.  The only thing he refused to get were wizard's robes, preferring what he was already wearing.  He later entered a ‘muggle’ store on their way out of London and bought more practical clothes similar in style to what he already had on.

When he returned to Hogwarts Dumbledore wanted to introduce him to two of the teachers working at the school: professors Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape.  The headmaster also wished to inform them of Edward’s prosthetics.  He assured the young alchemist that none of the other staff members would know about his arm and leg unless he told them himself.  Because McGonagall and Snape were two that Dumbledore trusted the most, Edward agreed to let them in on his ever-growing “secret.”

Over the next month he studied hard under the two teachers while also taking additional wizarding cultural classes with Dumbledore.  It had started agonizingly slow that first week simply because he couldn’t get past the idea of ‘magic’ being real and not pure fantasy no matter how many demonstrations he was given.  After a few personal one-on-one’s with Dumbledore, he became a little more accepting, but was still mentally trying to find a logic and reason behind the so-called “spells” and “charms.”  Dumbledore reasoned that it shouldn’t surprise him that something like magic could exist, after traveling through a mystic dimensional gate that could be considered magical.  Edward finally decided that while he remained in this world, or at least while he was trying to become a certified teacher in this place, that he should store away some of the nagging scientific logic into the back of his mind and learn to adapt to this world’s ways.  Once he was determined to do that, he quickly breezed through what were now simple lessons that appeared to be mere child’s play for his genius mind.  McGonagall later remarked at what a quick study he was and even Snape was impressed when Edward completed all first year courses as well as reaching high second year grading standards halfway through the first month.  By the beginning of July, Edward had completed all the second year courses and met high third year standards.

“I hate to admit it Headmaster, but, despite being an insufferable skeptic his first week here, the boy is brilliant,” Snape mused over the lunch he was having with Dumbledore and McGonagall while Edward was holed up in the library studying.

“Meeting third year standards after only studying a little over a month is incredible,” McGonagall agreed.  “The boy is a genius.  I’ve never seen anyone with such an incredible work ethic.  I’m amazed that the boy has gotten any sleep!”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded.  “He is certain to pass the ministry’s standards as well.”

“When will they come to examine him, Headmaster?” Snape asked.

“A week before the school year begins,” Dumbledore replied.  “I imagine that he’ll have reached fifth year OWL grading standards by then.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he reached the seventh year NEWT grade standards,” McGonagall joked.

At the end of the coming weeks before his examination for the ministry, Edward had actually reached high sixth year educational standards and low seventh year standards.  The Ministry’s inquiry officials were clearly impressed with the young man and became even more so when he revealed to them his “handicap.”  He passed their inspection and examinations with flying colors and earned his right to teach at Hogwarts for the coming year as an intern/student teacher, but if he wished to continue teaching after that, he’d have to submit to another exam and be reevaluated for the official teaching job they’d be willing to offer him in spite of his age should the record of his first two years prove to be exemplary.  Since he couldn’t be considered an official teacher and, therefore, teach a new introductory subject with a full class schedule, Dumbledore informed the ministry that Edward would also be assisting the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as an intern while also working as the teacher of his own Alchemy class on a part time scale.  The entire staff threw Edward a party that night to officially welcome him to Hogwarts as a member of their ranks.

He was then shown to his new classroom in the dungeons and its adjoining office next to Professor Snape’s.  His living quarters were through a portrait hole in his office and Dumbledore told him that this would be his home until he found a way back to his own world.  Edward thanked the headmaster, but informed him that he would continue to refuse wearing the standard wizard robes, still preferring to wear the “muggle” clothing that reminded him of his homeland.  No one denied him this and the women staff members had actually found a tailor who could recreate the clothing designs to the alchemist’s satisfactions.  He was able to get away with the attire so long as he wore his red cloak that could have been passed off as a robe if it didn’t have a hood.  It passed muster with the other staff members as well so no one bothered to bring the issue up again.

Edward’s first order of business now was to figure out what materials he wanted the students taking his class to have so that Dumbledore could send out the books and supplies list to the students that evening.   He hadn’t liked any of the useless texts he had bought on his first trip to Diagon Alley and had returned them all except for one.  The alchemy principles written in the text were amazingly similar to the ones he had practiced in his world.  All of the other books he had read appeared to be knock-offs of this one, but missed the key points entirely.  It was titled  _ Alchemy At It’s Core _ written by a Dr. Van Licht, a German alchemist that had made a name for himself in the 1920’s.  The current year was 1991.  He looked at the date the book was published and wasn’t surprised to find that it was dated well over 25 years ago.  He made the decision to make it his class’s textbook.  He would also require them to purchase a notebook for writing their alchemical equations in.

He brought this curriculum to Dumbledore to be approved.  The headmaster looked at the book choice and smiled.

“Ah, Dr. Licht’s work,” the headmaster smiled.  “I learned what little alchemy I know from him.  He was known as the creator of modern alchemy back in the day and not a soul has yet to surpass him or further his research.  He did great work with my colleague Nickolas Flamel.  He was very much like you.  You even look like him.”

Edward stiffened.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of him would you?” he asked.

“I do, in fact,” Dumbledore nodded, rising from his high-backed chair to pluck a picture off a nearby shelf.  “Here you are.”

Edward took the picture hesitantly, afraid that his suspicions were correct.  They were.  Standing next to a much younger looking Dumbledore was none other than his father, Van Hohenheim.  He muttered the name under his breath and Dumbledore noticed.  Nothing got past those sharp blue eyes of his.

“I take it you know Dr. Licht?” he asked.

“He’s my father.  He must have changed his name.  No real surprise there though,” Edward mumbled.  “I knew that he’d made it to a different world that lay on the other side of the Gate from our own in a place called London.  I must have made it through the same gate again, but further along the timeline than he did.  You wouldn’t happen to know where he is now, would you?”

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile.

“I’m afraid I do not know his current whereabouts.  Dr. Licht had mentioned he had two sons.  He moved to a small town in Germany just before the events of what the Muggles know today as World War II.  That is where he resided the last time I saw him.  It was there where he did most of his research and made great headway in the wizarding world through alchemy.  He was no great wizard, but he was a master alchemist.  We became close friends and together helped Nickolas improve his Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Hohenheim had no use for a Philosopher’s Stone,” Edward growled.

“No, he didn’t,” Dumbledore agreed.  “He wanted nothing to do with it as a matter of fact.”

“He had good reason not to,” Edward said darkly.  “A stone like that brings misery everywhere it is harbored.  Only a fool would want to possess the stone.”

“Which is why the stone that we helped create is being entrusted into my care,” Dumbledore sighed.  “Nickolas wants me to keep it safe for him.  Hagrid will soon be moving it from a special vault in Gringotts to here at Hogwarts.  I will be asking Professors Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, as well as Hagrid, to help me place the stone in a safe location and under numerous protections.  Speaking of assignments, I have a special assignment for Professor Snape that I want you to assist him with.”

Edward glanced up from the photo.

“And that would be…?” he paused.

“I want you to assist Severus in watching over a new student that will be starting here this year.  Have you heard the story about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?”

Edward nodded.  It was a famous wizard story about a baby boy who had somehow brought down a dark wizard only known ominously as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Every staff member had been babbling about it for the past couple of weeks.  Now he knew why.

“Why do you want me spying on this boy?” Edward asked wearily.

“Not spy, Edward,” Dumbledore corrected.  “I simply want you to keep an eye on the boy.  Severus will be too busy at times to watch over him, but you, as a student teacher, would have no problem getting near him.  You could even offer to tutor him if that’s what it takes.  He’s destined for great things in this world and we cannot afford to lose him.”

Edward internally sighed.

“Is Snape that incapable of looking out for the kid on his own?” he asked.

Dumbledore chuckled.

“No, Edward.  Severus is highly capable, just not too keen on the job. He has a bad history with the boy’s father and Harry looks remarkably like him.  Except for his eyes.  I’m told that his eyes are as green as his mother’s were.”

Edward sighed aloud this time.

“Fine,” he grumbled.  “I’ll watch out for him.  Anything else?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded.  “I just wished to inform you that since alchemy can’t be an official class until you take up an official teaching position, you’ll only have a couple of your own classes to teach.  It will be considered an elective class for years three through seven.  You won’t have any students for alchemy until they sign up for it during their first week with the heads of their houses, but alongside your internship with our appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Quirrell, and trying to find a way home, you should still be quite busy.  I also suggest that you spend that first week sitting in on some of Minerva and Severus’s classes on your off time to see how they teach and learn the tricks of the trade, as it were.”

“Got it,” Edward nodded. “Watch Potter kid, intern under Quirrel, no class of my own until the second week, and sit in on Snape and McGonagall’s lessons.  Did I leave anything out?”

Dumbledore smiled.

“No, that’s all for now.  Oh!  Hold on for a moment,” he said as he reached underneath his desk and pulled out a large flat rectangular package.  “This came in today.  It is my welcoming gift for you.  I hope you like it.”

Edward took the package and opened it immediately.  It was a recently finished portrait.  He could still smell the fading scent of fresh paints.  The subject was an older version of his little brother, Alphonse, in front of a suit of armor that looked like the armor that had housed Al’s soul the last time Edward had seen him.  Al was grinning at him from the elegant frame, waving every now and then.  His heart clenched tight in his chest, and his breathing hitched for a moment, rendering him speechless.

“I saw some pictures of the two of you among your belongings and had a friend paint an aged portrait of him with the suit of armor that was in some of the pictures.  He was painted to look the age he would be if he were with you now.  I hope I didn’t over step any lines or bounds.  I know you miss him greatly and that is why you desperately wish to return to your own world.  I had hoped that this would make an acceptable portrait for you to hang in your office as the entryway to your private rooms.  I’m afraid I had borrowed these in order to get you this,” the wizen headmaster said as he handed Edward a couple of photos that he’d been missing only recently.

“Thank you, sir,” Edward managed.  He wasn’t even mad at Dumbledore for taking some of his most personal and prized pictures.  “This… means a lot.  Thank you.”

Edward left Dumbledore’s office with his new portrait in tow and managed to bring it to his office without falling over and wrecking it.  He was eager to install it (the muggle way) over the uncovered portrait hole to his private rooms, but his height – or rather the lack thereof – became an issue.  This aggravated him to no end.  Fortunately Severus Snape chose that moment to pay him a visit.  The Potions Master helped his new colleague install the portrait without magic while muttering exasperated comments about Edward being too stubborn to use the magic he had worked so hard to master.  Afterwards they triumphantly admired their handiwork while sipping some tea that Edward had whipped up (with magic this time).

“Who is that a portrait of?” Snape asked him.

“My younger brother, Alphonse Elric.” Edward smiled sadly.  “Dumbledore noticed how much I was missing him and had this portrait made for me.”

“The headmaster has a way of caring for his staff,” Snape mused in his monotone voice.  “I’m here to talk to you about our assignment concerning the boy, Harry Potter.”

“Are you going to dump the entire thing on me?” Edward smirked jokingly.

Snape frowned a bit.

“As much as I’d like to, no,” he said crisply.  “Dumbledore has given me permission to let you in on a little secret that has been kept between the two of us and very few others for some time.  We believe that the Dark Lord is not as dead as everyone believes.  He feels that the Dark Lord will try to return and regain his powers.  His first target is bound to be the boy we’re supposed to be watching over.”

“So this is really a bodyguard job,” Edward snorted.  “He’s only an eleven-year-old boy for Pete’s sake.  What trouble could he possibly get into?”

“I suppose you never got into any mischief at that age?” Snape asked in his usual monotone drawl and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Edward hated to admit it but the man was correct.  He’d been that age when he and Al had tried to revive their mother.  He couldn’t help looking at the grinning portrait of Al and absently rubbed his right shoulder where his automail met flesh.  Snape noticed the gesture and nodded.

“I thought as much,” he sighed.

Edward ignored the dig, neither confirming nor denying Snape’s implied remark.

“So is that all?” Edward asked.  “You just wanted to let me know that I should be taking this task of babysitting the kid seriously?”

“No,” Snape said in a patient manner.  “I also came to warn you that the boy might prove to be a troublemaker.  If he’s anything like his father, he will be one.”

Edward smiled, amused.

“If he makes trouble, I’ll make trouble for him,” he commented, stretching his metal arm making it creak slightly under the strain he placed on it.

Snape actually allowed himself a small smile.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you too, by the way,” the Potions Master stated.

“And why is that?” Edward asked, surprised.

“You’re just as likely to make trouble as Potter is,” Snape sneered when saying the name.  “Just because you are some sort of genius that doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us.  In the end you’re still viewed as a student and it is my job to keep students in line.”

Edward rolled his eyes.

“Well this student has a teaching position here when it comes down to it,” he said gesturing around the office they were in.  “Or is this your way of being a good next-door neighbor by making sure that I don’t disturb the community?”

Snape allowed another small smile.

“Cute,” he said sarcastically.  “But know that I’ve been assigned to evaluate your capabilities as a teacher by Dumbledore.”

“Is the headmaster having second thoughts about hiring me?” Edward asked, feeling a little concerned, but tried not to show it.  “Or is this just procedure?”

“Procedure,” Snape sighed, dropping his intimidating act and settled into his chair again.  “When I applied for a job here, Minerva was my overseer.  It’s only for the first month of your first year.  I’m just going to see how well you can juggle your responsibilities as a teacher, how well or poorly you discipline your students, and how well you perform overall.  I’m sure you’ll have no problems.  You managed to cram six and a half years of an education here into two months.  I imagine teaching here will be a walk in the park for you.”

Edward smiled at the small praise.  Coming from Snape it meant a lot.  Very little ever passed muster with the Potions Master.

“So this Potter kid,” Edward sighed, getting back on track.  “You knew his parents?”

“Yes,” Snape sighed. “I went to school here with them.  James Potter was popular with his fellow students.  He was a star Quidditch player for Gryffindor and everyone thought that in spite of his childish antics he was brilliant.  He thought he was above everyone else and always had a certain disregard for the rules.  Lilly, on the other hand, was one of the brightest witches of my generation.  She was muggle born, but had proved her worth as a witch.  I could never understand why she married Potter.  She was witty and smart-”

He stopped abruptly, but not in time to stop Edward from catching the longing tone in his voice.

“You loved her,” Edward mused.

Snape managed to look fierce even while his face paled at his slip.

“It must have been hard for you to lose her to someone you obviously hated,” Edward continued, ignoring the glare he was receiving.

“Shut. Your. Mouth,” Snape said menacingly.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Edward shrugged.

“True,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t make it anything less than fact now does it?”

Snape fumed silently in his chair, glaring daggers at the young alchemist, but he cooled down when he noticed the far off expression on Edward’s face.

“I know what that’s like,” Edward sighed.  “I wouldn’t know anything about what you’ve been through and I don’t see how it’s any of my business in the first place, but I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.  Someone you’d give anything to see again.  I can sympathize with you on that level at least.”

Snape’s gaze was brought back to the portrait of Al who was now dozing lightly in his frame with a peaceful and angelic expression on his face.


	2. Watching Potter

The last week passed by rather quickly and now it was the night that marked the start of the new school year at Hogwarts.  Edward had tried to become better acquainted with the other staff members, but he was not particularly skilled at remembering names and putting them to faces.  He had succeeded in making a few friends however and was on a first name basis with Madam Poppy Pomfrey and Professors Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout.  He couldn’t quite figure out where he stood with Snape after their little discussion in his office, but he figured that they were on friendly grounds at least.  As for the professor he was supposed to assist and intern under he couldn’t quite put that relationship into words just yet.  The man was a nervous wreck and hard to understand some of the time… or at least he had been during the few conversations that they’d had.

He had only been in the Great Hall a few times during his stay over the summer, preferring to dine in his rooms or with Dumbledore in the headmaster’s office.  He had marveled at the grand structure and architecture before, but now the Great Hall was spectacularly lit by thousands of candles suspended in the air by Flitwick’s charms.  How those candles weren’t creating a scalding dripping mess even with the floating charms cast upon them was still beyond him. Instead of the single large table in the center of the hall that had been there before there were now five tables. There was one along the far wall where the teachers and staff would sit. It was referred to as the High Table. Then there were the four longer tables that ran the length of the hall that were meant for the coming students.  Large colored banners bearing an animal represented the four different houses that each of the student tables belonged to.  

McGonagall had explained to him what the four houses at Hogwarts were and that she was head of the house of Gryffindor, which was represented by the red and gold banners with a lion on them.  Snape was in charge of Slytherin house whose mascot was a serpent against the silver and green banners.  Flitwick was head of the blue and grey colored Ravenclaw house whose animal was a raven.  And finally there was the Hufflepuff house under Sprout’s charge with the badger as its mascot and the yellow and navy blue colored banners.  Edward still hadn’t learned how students were sorted into these houses, but he knew that he’d find out within the next hour.

He followed Flitwick down the hall and up the dais to the High Table where he sat next to the little man.  On his other side was a teacher he recognized, but failed to recall her name.  She had a scrawny figure that looked even more exaggerated under the ghastly amount of shawls she had draped around her shoulders.  But her most outstanding feature by far was the large and magnifying glasses she wore that made her eyes look three times their actual size.

“Good evening, Elric,” she said with a smile.

Edward nodded and gave her a small smile back.

“Ah yes!” Flitwick piped up.  “Good evening, Sybill.”

“Filius,” the woman nodded.

The name clicked in Edward’s head then.  The woman was Sybill Trelawney, the Divination teacher.  If there was any subject in this school Edward scoffed at more than any other it was Divination.  It’s professor wasn’t that impressive either.  He couldn’t remember how many times she had foretold his demise or told him that he’d fail his teaching exams.

“Excited, Edward?” Flitwick asked, beaming.

“Ah… yeah,” Edward said uneasily.

“I see great unsettlement,” Trelawney mused.

Edward flashed her an annoyed glance.

“I admit that I am a little nervous,” he said softly.

“Hmm?” the Divination teacher hummed, turning her large magnified eyes on him.  “What?  Oh…  Oh!  Oh, my dear boy, I wasn’t… Ha ha… I wasn’t referring to you.  I was referring to the sorting tonight.”

Edward and Flitwick traded a dubious look, but didn’t comment.  They instead turned to chat with Sprout when she took her seat on Flitwick’s other side. It wasn’t until all of the teachers were present that Edward noticed for the first time that students were beginning to enter the Great Hall as well.  He noted that some of them were staring up at him, pointing him out to their friends as they arrived to take a seat at one of the four tables.  Edward realized that he must have stood out with his blond hair and bright red cloak amongst all of the black, grey and other dark colors that the other teachers were wearing.  He could only imagine what they were saying about him.  It didn’t take long before the hall was full of chatter as more students arrived and filled the tables.  

Edward did his best not to meet any of the many curious stares directed at him and happened to glance at the great doors at the end of the hall just as McGonagall slipped through and made a beeline to the middle of the staff table where Dumbledore was seated. The two exchanged a few words before McGonagall nodded and headed back down the Great Hall and out the doors.  After she had disappeared, Edward raised his eyebrows in surprise as a group of around twenty ghosts came gliding through the walls and into the Great Hall, some stopping to chat with a few of the seated students.  Edward had only met a handful of the ghosts during his stay over the summer so he only recognized a few.  He didn’t have much time to dwell on the ghosts however. McGonagall had returned, throwing open the great doors to lead a nervous looking group of students to the dais before the staff table.

“Ah, the first years,” Flitwick squeaked happily.  “The sorting is about to begin.”

Edward nodded silently as he watched McGonagall place a four-legged stool in front of the first years before placing a very worn looking patched and frayed pointed wizard's hat on top of it.  Edward stared at the hat curiously for a few moments before jolting slightly with surprise when he saw the hat twitch before a rip in the brim opened wide like a mouth and began to speak… no… it was singing!

 

_ “Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, _

_ But don’t judge on what you see, _

_ I’ll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me. _

_ You can keep your bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_ For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_ And I can cap them all. _

_ There’s nothing hidden in your head _

_ The Sorting Hat can’t see,  _

_ So try me on and I will tell you _

_ Where you ought to be. _

_ You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_ Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_ Set Gryffindors apart; _

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff,  _

_ Where they are just and loyal, _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_ And unafraid of toil; _

_ Or yet in Ravenclaw,  _

_ If you’ve a ready mind, _

_ Where those of wit and learning, _

_ Will always find their kind; _

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_ You’ll make your real friends, _

_ Those cunning folks use any means _

_ To achieve their ends. _

_ So put me on! Don’t be afraid! _

_ And don’t get in a flap! _

_ You’re in safe hands (though I have none) _

_ For I’m a Thinking Cap!” _

 

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished singing its song and bowed to each of the four tables before becoming still again.

“So all the students have to do is put on the hat and it’ll tell them which house they’ll be in?” Edward asked as he watched mixed emotions of surprise, nervousness, and relief appear upon the first year students’ faces.

“Indeed,” Trelawney nodded in confirmation as McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” McGonagall stated before she announced the name of the first student.

Edward watched as one child after another was called up alphabetically by last name to sit on the stool, have the hat placed on his or her head, wait for a moment before the hat cried out the name of one of the four school houses, and race to the cheering table they’d been sorted into. It was a long process and Edward found his attention drifting after McGonagall reached the H’s.  The surprise and novelty of the situation had long since left him and now he was just waiting for the sorting to be over with so that he could eat.

“Potter, Harry!”

Edward jolted slightly in his seat at the sound of the name of the boy that he and Snape were supposed to be keeping an eye on.  His gaze immediately zeroed in on the nervous looking eleven-year-old who was now making his way up the dais to be sorted like all the others before him.  Frenzied whispers began to fill the air.

“ _ Potter _ , did she say?”

“ _ The _ Harry Potter?”

Edward watched with a twinge of sympathy as McGonagall slipped the hat on the poor boy’s head and over his eyes while the entire hall fell silent and watched.  It was deathly quiet as everyone in the Great Hall waited for the Sorting Hat to announce Potter’s house.  The hat seemed to be taking longer to decide where to put this boy than it had with the other children, but eventually the rim opened and cried “GRYFFINDOR!”

Edward noticed McGonagall’s lips twitch into a small smile and saw her straighten slightly with pride after it had been announced that Potter would be in  _ her _ house.  The Gryffindor table erupted with cheers, giving Harry Potter the loudest welcoming yet.  A tall redheaded boy with a Prefect’s badge got up and welcomed Potter to his table while a pair of red headed twins were yelling loud enough for Edward to hear them cry, “We got Potter!  We got Potter!”

There were only four other students left to be sorted and Edward watched with amusement as the second to last boy, Ronald Weasley, was also sorted into Gryffindor and took a seat next to Harry Potter.  Potter thumped the boy on the back as the other three red heads crowded around the boy as well.  Once they were all together Edward quickly realized that the four redheads were brothers.  It was rather obvious now since they all had the same bright red hair.  Edward watched McGonagall roll up her scroll once the last child was sorted into Slytherin, and took the Sorting Hat and the stool away.  As soon as McGonagall had taken her seat beside Dumbledore, the headmaster rose to his feet, extending his arms out wide in greeting.

“Welcome!” he said.  “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!  Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.  And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!  Thank you!”

Edward snorted and joined in the clapping as everyone cheered.  He knew that Dumbledore was a little off his rocker, but he couldn’t deny that the old man had an amusing sense of humor.  Edward glanced down and watched the plates and platters before him on the staff table magically filled with food.  Already used to this by now, Edward began to pile his plate high with food and chat with Flitwick and Sprout over the course of the meal.  Edward made sure to glance over at Harry Potter every now and again and watched the boy talk to the Gryffindor Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick. 

When he looked over at Potter again, he was listening to some of the other first year boys at his table, but the next time he happened to glance over at the boy, Potter had a shocked and pained expression on his face as he clapped a hand over his forehead.  Edward followed Potter’s line of sight before noticing Snape staring at the kid.  Edward frowned.  Snape’s dislike was obvious to him even though it was hidden behind the cold and neutral look he was giving Potter.  After examining the Potions Master, Edward couldn’t help but look over at Quirrell who was sitting next to Snape and nervously trying to engage the Potions Master in conversation.  Edward brought his attention back to Potter and watched the boy converse with the redheaded Prefect boy again while glancing up every now and then in Snape and Quirrel’s direction.

When the banquet was finished the food disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again to address the hall once more.  Everyone immediately fell silent.

“Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered.  I have a few start-of-term notices to give you,” Dumbledore announced.  “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.  I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.  Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term.  Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.  And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Edward raised an eyebrow at this, glancing at the old wizen man.  He caught Dumbledore’s eye, but the headmaster didn’t acknowledge it.  Instead the old man let out a soft exclamation as if he’d just remembered something.

“Ah!  Oh yes.  I’d also like you all to welcome Professor Edward Elric as a new member of our staff!  Starting this year, Hogwarts is offering courses in Alchemy as an elective for third through seventh year students.  Those of you who might be interested in taking these classes should speak with your heads of houses.  As it stands, Professor Elric will not only be teaching these Alchemy classes, but he will also be interning under Professor Quirrell and assisting him in your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes as he strives to acquire a full time teaching license.  I know that all of you will do your best to welcome him to our school.  And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!”

Edward groaned internally and couldn’t help but notice that more than a few of his fellow staff members’ smiles had become strained.  Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

Edward suffered through the song as everyone sang it differently and what it all amounted to be out loud was a great noise that grated on his nerves. When it was finally over Edward was tempted to roll his eyes at Dumbledore’s parting comment to the students.

“Ah, music,” the headmaster had sighed.  “A magic beyond all we do here!  And now, bedtime.  Off you trot!”

Edward watched as the students at the tables began to file out, first years making their way towards their house’s Prefects who were calling out for them to follow.  Once the hall was relatively emptied of students Edward and many other members of the staff rose from the High Table.  He made his way to the side door that he now knew would take him straight to the dungeons below.  He ran into a disgruntled looking Snape halfway down the first hall.

“Elric,” Snape nodded curtly when he spotted the young man.

“Snape,” Edward nodded back.

The two of them continued on in silence as they walked down various halls and staircases and through passages and portraits before ending up in a main hallway where some straggling students were still making their way to the Slytherin Common Room that Edward knew was located in the dungeons somewhere below the Grate Lake.  Edward tended to avoid that particular section of the dungeons because his flesh ports attached to his metallic limbs ached whenever he spent too much time in the cold air.

Edward watched with mild amusement as Snape harried his students off before rejoining him on their walk to their own quarters.

“You seem to be a little stricter than usual,” Edward mused when they stopped encountering students for Snape to scare off the closer they got to their rooms.

“It’s Quirrel,” Snape glared.

“Quirrel?” Edward blinked, surprised. “I thought you were brooding over Potter’s inevitable arrival.”

Snape glared at the younger and shorter man.

“That boy is just like his father.  I can already see it,” the slick haired man growled.  “He’s going to be nothing but trouble.”

“You haven’t even exchanged one word with the boy and you already hate him,” Edward mused.  “Now what is this about Quirrell?”

“Quirrel was just getting on my nerves tonight,” Snape sneered. “That man is supposed to be a teacher and he can’t even speak a single word without falling to pieces with that irritating stutter of his.  The man can’t keep it together.”

“Sitting next to you probably wasn’t doing him any good,” Edward snickered.  “You have a rather unsettling presence.”

“Yet it doesn’t seem to have any effect on you,” Snape snorted.

“I’ve spent a good part of my life putting up with people like you,” Edward smirked.  “I’m not that easily intimidated.”

“I suppose that that works in your favor,” Snape mused.  “Let’s just hope that you can handle a classroom full of students.”

“I won’t even be able to teach my own class until next week,” Edward huffed as they stopped outside Snape’s office door.  “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow during one of your Introductory Potions classes.  Dumbledore has told me that I should sit in on a few of yours and Minerva’s classes.”

“Already on a first name basis with Minerva are you?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. What of it?” Edward shrugged.  “I  _ am _ a teacher here now after all.  I’m on a first name basis with a lot of the other staff members.  It’s no big deal.  I’m not used to being called Professor or Mr. Elric yet, so I asked them to call me by my first name.  In exchange they’ve allowed me to call them by their first name.  Actually, I’d prefer it if you’d call me Edward as well. Elric was my mother’s maiden name and my brother and I made it our surname after she died.  Our mother had fallen ill not long after our so-called father had up and left us one day.  Being called Professor and Mr. Elric only reminds me of the damn bastard, but I suppose I’m kind of used to it by now.  It can’t really be helped anyways since I’m going to be talking to students that will be addressing me as such.”

Snape frowned.

“I’ve never liked my father,” Edward explained when he saw the expression.  “Not after he just up and left the way he did.  The bastard didn’t even come back for his own wife’s funeral.  My brother and I grew up living on our own before throwing ourselves into studying alchemy under the watchful eyes of our teacher.”

Snape watched the boy quietly as he had his little rant.  He could sympathize because he had never liked his own father either or even his mother for that matter.  His family had been poor and neither of his parents had ever given much of a damn about him while growing up, so he’d ended up disliking them both and couldn’t wait to leave home.

Edward paused for a moment and frowned before laughing softly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Snape,” Edward chuckled.  “Didn’t mean to start ranting. Don’t know why I even said all of that.  I don’t usually talk much about my past.  I’ve always been told that I’ve got a bit of a temper, but even so, I guess the subject of my father’s still a bit of a sore spot.”

Snape only nodded before opening the door to his office.  

“Good night, Snape,” Edward sighed before walking a little bit further down the hall to enter the classroom that would lead to his office and living quarters, but before he opened the door Snape called out to him.

“…Severus.”

“What?” Edward blinked.

“You can address me as Severus when we’re not in the presence of students, Edward,” Snape said dryly.  “Wouldn’t want the other members of the staff thinking that we aren’t getting along now do we?  If I’m going to have to start calling you by your first name, then it is only fair that you should call me by mine.  Doesn’t that follow your Alchemy’s rule of Equivalent Exchange?”

The man was gone before Edward could even comment.  Edward snickered. Snape was proving to be an interesting man to interact with.

 

The next morning Edward woke up bright and early.  He stretched slightly before getting out of bed and used his newly honed magical skills to make himself some coffee to pour into a thermos before leaving his rooms.  He traveled down the now familiar corridors, out onto the grounds, and down to the lake.  It was really early in the morning and the chilled damp air was starting to make his flesh ports ache beneath his automail prosthetics.  The sun was still low behind the forest and mountains so Edward figured it was sometime around five in the morning.  A glance at his pocket watch informed him that it was 5:17 AM.  Slipping the watch back into his pant’s pocket he shed his black overcoat and began to perform his stretches.

It was a routine that he’d gotten into over the last few weeks.  He’d wake up early before the sun rose and would come down to the lake to stretch and practice his martial arts in order to keep his skills from dulling and to keep his automail limbs nice and limber so that they wouldn’t lock up from disuse.  Normally he’d do this kind of routine with Al, but his brother wasn’t here to spar with him.  As for preventing his automail from rusting in the damp air of the dungeons and the lake, Edward kept up constant maintenance on his metal limbs and had infused the metal with a complicated series and combination of proofing spells and alchemical ruins that prevented the prosthetics from being affected by magic cast by unknown witches and wizards.  Only his own magic and alchemy could affect his metal limbs now unless he lifted one of the spells to allow someone else like Poppy Pomfrey to take a look at them.

Edward was currently wearing a loose black long sleeved low-necked tunic over a long pair of black slacks.  Normally he’d do his stretches bare handed and footed, but now there was a chance that curious students would spot him. He didn’t want to take the risk of his metal limbs being spotted.  In spite of the fact that they were considered highly advanced technology in this world, his prosthetics were still muggle made and he knew that in the wizarding community they would be viewed as out of place.  Because he was a new teacher he knew that he was already bound to attract attention and notice from the students, but because of his young age he knew that he’d be considered something of a curiosity. He didn’t need any more attention than what his very presence and position at this school already supplied him with.  So as he performed these exercises he wore his black boots and white gloves.  The white of his gloves and the military style of his boots clashed with his informal attire, but he didn’t care.  It was too early in the day to care.  He’d find something more suitable later the next time he visited Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

After an hour of stretching and exercising the sun was peeking up above the forest and cast a warm glow over the grounds.  Edward sighed, performing one final stretch before picking up his thermos and drank the last of his first batch of morning coffee.  He picked up his overcoat from where he’d cast it aside when he’d started his stretches and slipped it back on. He headed back up to the castle and went to the staff restroom facilities where he took a shower.  Afterwards he found that the castle’s house-elves had taken away his sweaty clothes and had replaced them with his (now) customary brown dress slacks, white button-up shirt, a clean pair of socks and white gloves, freshly shined brown leather loafers, and a long dark brown trench coat that was passable for wizarding robes.

As he got dressed Edward shook his head with wonder.  These had been the clothes that he had pulled out the night before and had left in his room to change into after he got back from stretching.  When Edward slipped on his slacks he couldn’t help but smile when he felt the weight of his State Alchemist’s watch in his left pocket.  The elves didn’t miss a thing. When he was finally dressed he brushed back his hair and pulled it up into his customary high ponytail.  He debated with himself for a moment whether or not to braid it like he usually did, but quickly decided that he was too lazy to do it and let it hang flowing behind him.

He exited the bathroom and – since he was already dressed in his professional attire for the day – headed towards the Great Hall to have some breakfast.  He clicked open his watch and found that it was a little after seven o’clock.  Classes started at eight, so he had plenty of time to eat.  He entered the Great Hall through a side door that the teachers used and saw that the hall was now filled with excited students who were looking over their new class schedules with their friends.  He ignored the few stares he got as he passed the ends of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables and up the steps of the dais to the High Table.

“Edward! Over here!”

Edward blinked and looked around for a moment before he finally spotted Flitwick and Sprout waving him over to sit with them, McGonagall, and Snape.  Edward smiled as he took a seat with the four heads of the Hogwarts houses and greeted them in return.

“Nervous?” Sprout asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Hardly,” Edward said with a grin.  “Excited actually.  I don’t have anything to be nervous about until next week.”

“That’s the spirit!” Flitwick chirped. “Pumpkin juice?”

“Yes, thank you,” Edward said, taking the proffered glass.

“Have you decided what classes you’ll be shadowing today?” McGonagall asked.

Edward had actually been thinking about that last night and had been keeping Potter’s schedule in mind while planning out his day. Dumbledore had had a house elf drop off a copy to his office after the feast.

“I think I’ll join in on Pomona’s first Herbology class,” Edward mused glancing at the now beaming Professor Sprout.  “Then I’ll go help Quirrel prepare for his afternoon classes for a bit, sit in on one of Filius’ Charms classes and just follow the student’s to Minerva’s Transfiguration class that takes place before lunch.  Then I’ll aid Quirrell in all his afternoon classes before finishing up the day by sitting in on Severus’ Potion’s class with the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins.”

“Ah yes,” Sprout mused.  “Quirrell only has afternoon classes today doesn’t he?”

“Poor lad’s nervous,” Flitwick sighed.  “This is his first time teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“I thought that he’d been teaching here at Hogwarts for a few years now,” Edward said with a confused frown.

“Oh, he has,” McGonagall assured him. “It’s just that Professor Quirrell taught Muggle Studies up until last year when he went out to do some field work before taking up the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year.”

“Poor man’s come back so nervous and twitchy,” Sprout sighed.  “I hope he’ll be alright.”

“It’s no wonder Dumbledore is having Edward intern under him,” Snape sneered.

“No need to be bitter Severus,” McGonagall admonished.  “Just because Albus didn’t give you the job again-!”

Snape set his goblet down rather hard before standing.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Snape said tersely.

Edward eyed the Potions Master curiously as he watched the man leave the Great Hall with his cloak billowing out behind him.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” Edward asked.

“Oh, Severus is just being a little touchy,” Flitwick chuckled nervously.  “For the last few years he’s been after Quirrel’s current teaching position, but because there’s no one to take over his job as Potions Master he couldn’t become the Dark Arts teacher. On the other hand, Charity Burbage was available to take over Quirrel’s Muggle Studies position so Quirrel was able to take the job.  Severus has been very bitter about the whole thing.”

“I see,” Edward mused.  

No wonder Snape had been irritated by Quirrel during the feast after the sorting last night. 

After breakfast Edward followed Sprout to the teacher’s lounge where she’d left her notes for her classes. Then they set out for the green houses where they’d meet up with her first class composed of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor first years. When they arrived most of the students were staring at the Potter kid.

“Good morning, class!” Professor Sprout called happily.

“Good morning, Professor,” the students piped up.

“Welcome to Herbology class,” she smiled.  “I’m Professor Sprout and this is Professor Elric.  He’ll be joining us this morning.  Today we’ll be examining the properties of Devil Snare roots. Follow me please.”

The class did as they were told but many had now temporarily forgotten about staring at Potter and instead turned their curious stares to the extraordinarily young professor.  Edward ignored them.  He was used to stares.  He’d gotten plenty of them after he’d been given the rank and title of State Alchemist Fullmetal.  No, staring youths didn’t bother him.  What  _ was _ bothering him was how nervous Potter still looked even with most of the other students’ attention diverted to Edward. Halfway through Professor Sprout’s class when the students were supposed to be transferring strands of freshly cut Devil Snare roots into new pots that were going to be grown into a new plant, Edward came over to Potter’s station where he was working with the red haired Weasley boy.

“You alright, kid?” he asked.

Potter nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Wha?” the boy said, blinking rapidly.

“You’ve been looking a little tense and I’m sure it’s not the plants.” Edward smiled.  “Is there something wrong?”

“No, Professor,” Potter mumbled, face red with embarrassment.  “Just a little nervous I guess… It’s just… I don’t know that much about magic…”

“Ah,” Edward sighed.  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.  A lot of students don’t know what they’re doing.  I sure as hell didn’t when I first started learning magic.  I’m sure you’ll do a lot better than I did my first week.”

Potter smiled up at him, thanked him, and went back to helping the Weasley boy with their Devil Snare activity, looking a lot more relaxed.  Edward forced himself to observe the other tables as well so as not to single Potter out.  A Gryffindor girl with rather bushy curly brown hair both irritated and amused him.  Her name was Hermione Granger if he wasn’t mistaken.  The girl had a keen intellect, but she came off as a know-it-all. Edward hated know-it-alls.  She was the only one able to answer all of the randomly thrown out questions that Sprout whipped out during class, but she was constantly waving Edward or Sprout over whenever they were free to make sure she and her partner – a nervous boy called Longbottom – were doing the activity right.  That was the part Edward found amusing about her.  She obviously knew the material, but her need for perfection made her question herself.  When Sprout was on the other half of the room, Edward came up to her and softly snapped in a voice so low that only she, her partner and maybe a couple of the other pairs in the immediate area could hear.

“Look, Miss Granger,” he growled, “for someone so smart I think it rather bad taste to continue as you have been.  It’s obvious that you know what to do, so stop badgering us professors and just do the damn activity.”

Granger went bright pink at his comment and mumbled a soft apology before returning to her work.  She didn’t ask for either professor to come over to check her work again after that.  Feeling a little bad afterwards for losing his temper with her, he made up for it by picking on a few of the other groups as well, just for good measure.  Pomona caught him a few times, and gave him a gentle reprimand after class, reminding him that these were only first years and that this was only their first day. Edward apologized before making his way to Quirrel’s classroom to help the man prepare for their classes in the afternoon.

There wasn’t much to prepare for in all actuality. Apparently Quirrel was only doing introductory classes, which involved a lot of lecturing, and there wasn’t much for Edward to do other than help the man organize his notes and familiarize himself with the material they were going to go over. So, as a result, Edward found that he had some free time to himself before Flitwick’s class. He chose to wander the less familiar halls of the castle and ended up running into Filch a couple of times before deciding that it would be wiser to head over to Flitwick’s before running into the unpleasant caretaker again.

He arrived early and found himself more than amused. He watched the tiny professor organize a stack of books that would allow him to see over his desk. As the students started coming in – first year Gryffindors with Ravenclaws this time – Edward situated himself in the back of the room in the corner behind Flitwick’s desk. He ignored the whispers from the Gryffindors and the staring from the Ravenclaw students who hadn’t met him yet. Flitwick introduced him to the class before taking roll call. When he reached Potter’s name the professor gave a rather high excited – and very unprofessional – squeak and toppled off his stack of books to the floor behind his desk. Edward hid his snicker and rushed forward to aid the professor and helped him back up onto his stack of books. He noticed that Potter had sunk low in his seat looking highly embarrassed at the Charms Professor’s reaction to his name.  The rest of the class continued on without a hitch though, and Edward escorted the first years to McGonagall’s class since he was headed there himself.

Edward knew that the Transfiguration teacher was a rather strict individual when it came to teaching, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor first years because the moment they were all seated, McGonagall gave them all the strong firm lecture that she’d given Edward at the beginning of his own magical education.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then, as if to show off, McGonagall changed her desk into a pig and back again. Edward saw the awe and impressed expressions on all of the students’ faces, looking eager to learn how to do the same. Edward had to hold in his laughter when he later saw how disappointed they all looked when informed that they wouldn’t be changing furniture into animals for a long time yet.  After the students took down some rather complicated notes Edward helped McGonagall pass out matchsticks that the students were supposed to transfigure into needles.  While the students were preoccupied with their task, McGonagall gave Edward some tips on how he might wish to run his class and offered up some rather good disciplinary and lesson organization tips. The two of them then went around helping the students with their transfigurations, but by the end of the lesson only Hermione Granger had managed to make any difference to her match. The professor even showed it to the class and had them observe how the matchstick had gone all silver and pointy at the end before offering the Granger girl one of her rare smiles.  Edward had to admit that he was impressed as well. It had taken him more than an hour to get his matchstick to that stage when he had first started.

After the class had ended Edward followed McGonagall to the teacher’s lounge for a private lunch with the other three heads of houses.  Snape was still apparently in a foul mood and had hardly uttered a word the entire time. Edward was caught up as the center of conversation though as he was asked how his day was going and what he thought of the classes he’d sat in so far. Flitwick and Sprout were eager to hear his opinion on that particular topic since it had been their classes that he’d observed. 

When their lunch hour was over Edward headed back down to the dungeons to join Quirrel for their classes.  Their first lesson was with third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Edward didn’t do much that class. He simply sat in his seat to the left of Quirrel’s desk and offered up helpful suggestions or supplied the right words when the poor man’s stutter was getting the better of him. The next three classes weren’t much better. Finally all of Quirrel’s classes were done for the day and Edward bid the nervous professor a good evening and headed down the hall to sit in on Snape’s last class. After the potions lesson it would be time for dinner and the day could come to an end.

Snape hardly acknowledged Edward when he entered aside from a small nod and waved him off to sit in a chair beside his desk. Edward frowned, but shrugged it off and took his seat just as the first year students started pouring in.

“Look! This is the fourth class today!” he heard a boy whisper a few rows from where he was seated. “I wonder why Professor Elric is observing so many of our classes.”

Edward hid a long-suffering sigh. Perhaps he should have spread out his visits more than he had instead of centering them around Potter’s schedule. Finally Snape started the class and took attendance.  Edward had to bite back a groan though when the Potion’s Master paused on Potter’s name.

“Ah, yes,” Snape said softly,” “Harry Potter. Our new –  _ celebrity _ .”

A few Slytherin boys sniggered behind their hands and Edward mentally took note of them so that he would remember to keep an eye on the three potential troublemakers. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if your aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

“That was very beautiful, Professor Snape,” Edward grinned at the now glaring Potions Master. “Highly poetic. At least it was until the dunderheads comment.”

“Is there anything you’d like to add, Professor Elric?” Snape sneered.

“Oh no.” Edward continued to smile. “I think you summed up potion making rather well.  It’s an exact science that’s an art within itself – a beautiful process indeed so long as one keeps a good head on their shoulders and follows the directions printed in front of them.”

Snape nodded stiffly before facing the class again, his sharp black eyes scanning the class, looking for a victim. Edward would give you one guess as to whom his eyes landed on.

“Potter!” Snape said suddenly making the poor boy jump slightly in his seat. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Poor Potter glanced at his redheaded friend who looked as stumped as he was. Of course the Ganger girl’s hand shot into the air. Edward wasn’t sure if he wanted to roll his eyes at her or protest at how unfair Snape was being to young Potter. Seriously, what eleven-year-old would have read the textbook… besides Granger that is.

“I don’t know, sir,” Potter admitted, still managing to keep eye contact with his tormentor.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut – fame clearly isn’t everything.”

He ignored Granger’s raised hand.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

The Granger girl stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat. Edward frowned at Snape but turned his attention to the three Slytherin boys who were shaking with laughter at Potter’s roasting.

“I don’t know, sir,” Potter said again, still keeping eye contact.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape leered.

Edward had to admit that Potter was being very brave considering the circumstances. Here the highly unfair Potion’s Professor was grilling him yet his gaze never wavered from Snape’s. He had to admit that he was impressed. 

Miss Granger’s raised hand was still being ignored.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape asked.

At this Granger finally left her seat, hand stretching towards the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” Potter said quietly.

One of three Slytherin boys had finally had it and snorted loudly unable to contain his laughter anymore. Edward jumped at the opportunity this presented.

“Well, it seems this young boy knows, Professor,” Edward grinned advancing on the now paling blond.  “Tell me, Mr…?”

“…Malfoy, sir,” the blond said slowly. Snape was frowning at Edward, but didn’t interrupt him.

“Malfoy,” Edward nodded, committing the name to memory. “Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you could answer the Professor’s question?”

Malfoy blushed and shook his head.

“No, sir.”

“Hmm,” Edward hummed shaking his head before picking on another student – a Gryffindor this time to be fair. “How about you Mr.…?”

“Thomas,” the boy answered nervously. “And no, sir, I don’t know either.”

Edward sighed heavily for effect after asking a few more students.

“Hasn’t anyone other than Miss Granger even bothered to read the textbook?”

When no one answered his question he turned to Snape and gave the Potions Master a regretful sigh.

“Looks like you have a class full of dunderheads after all,” he said with a shrug.

“Then perhaps  _ you _ could tell the class the answers to my questions,  _ Professor _ ,” Snape sneered.

“Certainly,” Edward said without missing a beat and paced his way slowly to the front of the room to recline leisurely in his seat besides Snape’s desk.

“Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. And as for monkshood and wolfsbane, Miss Granger, why don’t you take a seat and tell us the answer before you burst?”

The girl blushed, but she sat and answered promptly, “Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant which also goes by the name of aconite.”

“Correct,” Edward beamed.  “I think that that deserves five points don’t you, Professor?”

Snape did not look pleased but he nodded.

“Five points for Gryffindor,” had said with a strained voice but after a pause Snape snapped at the rest of the class. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying this down?”

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment.

“Professor Elric?” Snape said lightly, making Edward nervous.

“Yes, sir?”

“Please remember that you are here to  _ observe _ my class.  If I require your assistance I will ask for it,” Snape said coldly before continuing in that creepy light tone. “Though I suppose I can excuse your behavior. After all, you completed an entire education of Hogwarts material without any previous knowledge of magic aside from your Alchemy and also succeeded in passing the Ministry’s teaching exams all in a little over two months. It is quite an amazing accomplishment. And if I recall correctly, potions was your strongest subject.  I have to admit that you were by far one of my best students.”

Edward wasn’t expecting the high praise. It kinda creeped him out since it was coming from Snape of all people.

“…Thank you, Professor Snape,” he said, bowing his head politely. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

Snape sneered slightly.

“Oh, I had no doubt of your talent,” said Snape. “I’m no fool. I recognize genius when I see it.  You are indeed quite the prodigy, Elric.”

Now Edward was uncomfortable. He liked it better when Snape wasn’t complimenting him. This Snape was just creepy.  Why was he even saying all of this? In front of students no less who were undoubtedly able to hear every word? Then it hit him. The students! Out of the corner of his eye Edward noticed that the students were whispering amongst themselves and looking at him in awe. It wouldn’t take long for Snape’s comments to circulate around the school once these students were free to leave… shit. Snape was one clever bastard.

As the lesson continued Snape split the students up into pairs and assigned them to mix up a relatively simple potion for curing boils that Edward remembered having no trouble with when he was starting at their level.  After Snape’s little compliments from earlier though Edward found himself stuck aiding the Potion’s Master, watching the students weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. Of course Snape criticized everyone but the blond Malfoy boy whom he seemed to like. Because of this Edward made it his job to help those Snape had criticized and point out the flaws in the Malfoy boy’s work that Snape had neglected to mention.  Of course there was no saving the poor Longbottom boy when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Longbottom had somehow managed to melt his partner’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds the entire class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

The poor boy whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

“Professor Elric, would you mind taking him up to the hospital wing?” Snape asked Edward before rounding on Potter and Weasley who had been working next to Longbottom and his partner. “You – Potter – why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s one point from Gryffindor.”

Potter was about to open his mouth to protest but Edward stopped him.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” his hissed in Potter’s ear before he helped poor Longbottom up from the floor. “Professor Snape’s not in the best of moods today so he could become very nasty if you angered him further.”

That said, Edward led the poor boil covered boy to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey took care of him.  Edward didn’t bother going back down to the dungeons since the class was going to get out soon anyway. Instead he chatted with Madam Pomfrey and did his best to comfort Longbottom. He even went as far as to offer some tutoring sessions in potions should the boy need it later.

“Oh, Edward dear,” Madam Pomfrey gasped. “I’d do it myself, but because I’ve been rather busy up here could you be so kind and bring this draught down to Hagrid?  It’s for his dog, Fang. Blasted thing ate a bad mushroom from the Forbidden Forest. He’s doing better now, but I forgot to send down the next dosage. Just because the signs have cleared up doesn’t mean that the silly thing can’t have a relapse. Best to nip this thing in the bud. Tell Hagrid that Fang needs to drink this for three more days. He knows how to administer it.”

“Sure, no problem,” Edward told her.  

He had nothing better to do so he headed down onto the grounds and made his way to Hagrid’s hut. It seemed that he wasn’t the man’s only visitor though. Before he knocked he heard two other voices talking with Hagrid’s booming voice. When Hagrid opened the door to greet him, Edward was bowled over by Fang, landing flat on his back. The healing drought had nearly been thrown out of his hand.  What was it with big dogs wanting to knock him over? First Xander, now this great big heavy boarhound!  The thought of the other big dog and his loving little girl, Nina, made Edward’s heart clench in regret as a hollow pain echoed in his chest, but the feeling was short lived when he was slobbered on by his current problem. This damn dog was heavier than Xander had ever been.

“Fang! Down, Fang! Down! Back, ya silly beast,” Hagrid cried aghast.  “Ya alrigh’ Ed?”

“Fine,” Edward groaned before he was lifted up and put jarringly back on his feet before being beat around as Hagrid tried to brush him off. After Edward managed to get Hagrid to understand that he was all right he handed the giant man the drought and performed a few cleaning spells to get the drool and grass off his clothes.

“Well tha’ was nice of ya.” Hagrid grinned. “Why don’ ya cum inside fer a cup o’ tea?”

Edward shrugged and followed the groundskeeper and his boarhound into the hut where he now saw Potter and the youngest Weasley boy staring curiously at him.  It looked as if they had just arrived themselves.

“Potter. Weasley,” Edward smiled nodding his head in greeting.

“Professor,” the two nodded back.

“Call me Edward, please,” Edward sighed. “At least when we’re outside of the formal school setting.  I’m not that much older than you two after all.”

“So I was right,” Hagrid laughed looking at the redheaded boy. “Ya are another Weasley. I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.”

Hagrid then offered them all some rock cakes. Edward knew better than to eat them by now and easily managed to turn down the offer – saying he’d just eaten – but that didn’t stop him from snickering when Potter and Weasley nearly broke their teeth when they took that first bite and later pretended to be enjoying them as they told him and Hagrid about their first lessons. Edward offered up an opinion or two about the classes he’d sat in on with them and patiently answered the two students’ questions when they asked him if what Snape had said about him completing an entire magical education over the summer was true.  It didn’t help Edward any when Hagrid told the two boys his little odds and ends of the story confirming that Snape hadn’t been lying when he’d called Edward a genius and prodigy. Now Edward didn’t mind the flattery, but he was more than relieved when Potter brought up the rest of Snape’s lesson; mainly the part where Snape had grilled him with questions that he’d had no prayer in answering.  Hagrid told the boy not to worry about it and that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

“But he seemed to really  _ hate _ me.”

Edward flinched internally. He’d have to have a word with Snape to see if he couldn’t get the Potions Master to lighten up on the boy at least a little.

“Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?”

Edward sighed, noticing that the big man wouldn’t quite meet Potter’s eyes.

“How’s yer brother Charlie?” Hagrid asked Ron, abruptly changing the subject. “I liked him a lot – great with animals.”

Edward snorted, watching Potter out of the corner of his eye. The boy apparently didn’t buy the change in subject either.  While Weasley told Hagrid all about his brother Charlie’s work with dragons, Potter picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under a tea cozy. From what Edward could tell it was a section from the wizard paper, the  _ Daily Prophet _ . Something in it must have caught the boy’s attention though because he gave a surprised start, looked up at Hagrid, and interrupted the conversation the man was still having about dragons with Weasley.

“Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!”

“Break-in?” Edward frowned. “What break-in?”

He noticed that Hagrid wouldn’t meet either of the boys’ curious gazes let alone his own, only grunting and offering them all another rock cake. That made the to-be Alchemy Professor frown. Hagrid knew something about this break in. He could feel it. Potter was reading the paper article again.

“Potter, can I see that?” Edward asked after a little while.

Potter looked up at him, surprised, but handed the paper over to him. Edward scanned the article himself.

* * *

 

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark Wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insist that nothing had been taken.  The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out of if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

 

* * *

After reading the article Edward set it back on the table. Odd how he hadn’t heard of it before. It sounded like big news. He wasn’t from this world and wasn’t used to it’s culture, but he knew about Gringotts and remembered Hagrid telling him in passing once that the wizarding bank was supposed to be the hardest bank in the world to break into.

After their visit, Edward escorted the two boys back to the castle for dinner. He had to restrain his laughter again though when the two boys’ pockets were loaded down with more rock cakes since they’d been unable to refuse Hagrid.

“So,” Edward mused out loud. “What is it about this Gringotts break-in that’s got you so preoccupied, Potter?”

The boy blinked up at him before looking down at his feet, obviously contemplating whether or not to tell him.  Finally making up his mind the boy told Edward about how he found out he was a wizard and how he’d spent his eleventh birthday with Hagrid.

“…When I first went to Diagon Alley, Hagrid and I went to Gringotts,” Harry continued his story slowly as he got to the most important part and the reason for telling Edward his story. “Before visiting my vault Hagrid and I went to vault seven-hundred-and-thirteen.  The only thing inside it was this grubby little package. Hagrid took it and then we headed to my vault.”

“Alright…” Edward nodded. “I’m guessing that this vault that was broken into was this same vault that you and Hagrid visited?”

Potter nodded.  “Hagrid didn’t say what was in the package, only that it was Hogwarts business.”

Edward nodded again.

“Sounds to me like Hagrid collected that package just in time,” he mused.  “If that’s what the thief’s target was at any rate.”

The trio didn’t speak anymore about the matter and proceeded to the Great Hall where the boys joined the Gryffindor table and Edward went on to the High Table where he informed Madam Pomfrey that the drought she’d given him had been safely delivered.


	3. Alchemy Classes, Broomsticks and Three Headed Dogs

As the first week of school at Hogwarts ended Edward found himself busy preparing for his own classes. Only forty students had signed up for his Alchemy class during the first week and after comparing all forty schedules to each other he’d decided to divide the group into three class sections. He also had to work around the classes that he was already assisting Quirrel with however so it took him a while to create a schedule that he felt was acceptable for both himself and the students enrolled in his class.  The plan was that each class section would meet up twice a week and then on Friday all three groups would meet for a combined class session either in the great lecture hall down in the dungeons just down the corridor from his classroom or out on the school grounds by the lake whenever he had permission from Dumbledore – which was surprisingly easy to get since Dumbledore was all for the high interactive learning curriculum he’d devised for his classes.

Monday morning of the second week, Edward sent out the times of his classes during breakfast to his students and a little before ten o’clock he was finally ready to hold his first class.  In this class group there were three Gryffindors: two girls and one boy all sixth years, one Slytherin girl in her fifth year, two Hufflepuffs: a fourth year girl and a sixth year boy, and seven Ravenclaws: one third year girl, two fourth year boys, one fifth year girl, one boy and one girl in their sixth year, and one seventh year girl.  His other two classes were pretty much the same. Edward had expected Ravenclaws to make up the bulk of his classes but he was a little surprised to find that at least two-thirds of his students were female.  

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. In his world women interested in alchemy were few and far between. Though to be fair he’d probably only known a handful of them and none of the other State Alchemists had been female. Maybe that was sexist of him, but it didn’t take him long to discover that over half of the girls enrolled in his class – non-Ravenclaw students especially – had signed up for his class because they thought he was… cute. Ick!  He may be a seventeen-year-old teenager and liked that girls here seemed to find him attractive in spite of his… vertical problem, but he’d never liked being called cute.  It was just as demeaning as being called short or small or any of those other offending references to his height.  

Of course a lot of his students had signed up for his class nearer to the end of the first week.  Snape’s comments on his genius status had spread like wildfire through Hogwarts’ student population. Now there were awed, admiring, and some looks of downright contempt (these mostly from older Slytherin students) mixed in with the curious ones he was used to at the beginning of the term.  

All of his classes were introductory courses in alchemy so he started his first classes with the three groups discussing the theory of alchemy. But he also demonstrated how practical alchemy was performed with drawing transmutation circles to “transfigure” things into other things as well as turn rocks into gold.  _ That _ had certainly gotten his students’ attention. It was taking a while to hammer in the more scientific aspects of alchemy into his students, however, since this was a magical world that had hardly any use for the practical “muggle” sciences. There were those few in his classes who were muggle born and were at least familiar with the periodic table though. They were quick to catch on and able to help the others.

Edward found the second week flying by due to the fact that he hardly had any spare time in between his classes and the ones he aided Quirrell in.  It wasn’t until Thursday that Edward found himself with a free mid-afternoon and decided to take a walk around the grounds before he had to teach his six o’clock class with his third section group of students. It was around three-thirty when he spotted the first year Gryffindor students making their way onto the sloping grounds where the Slytherin first years were already gathered on the flat lawn standing around rows of standard school-issued broomsticks. Edward looked on in interest, almost instantly spotting Potter’s messy mop of black and Weasley’s flaming bright red hair. Taking a seat on the hill he was currently on, he observed the great view he had of what would soon take place down below.

Looking up at the sky Edward mused on how it was a nice clear day with perfect wind conditions for learning how to fly on a broom. Edward recalled the first time he’d ever attempted to ride a broom during some of his few free hours over the summer.  It hadn’t been pleasant for him at first because he just hadn’t been able to wrap his head around being able to fly on some stupid flimsy cleaning tool, but like everything else that involved magic Edward learned to accept it and adjusted to the concept. He wasn’t half bad, but he hadn’t picked up a broom since he’d been approved to be a student teacher by the ministry.

He spotted Madam Rolanda Hooch stalking across the lawn to join her students. Her short grey hair rustling along with her robes like feathers in the light wind and her sharp yellow hawk-like eyes were piercing even from where Edward sat.  Her strict and crisp voice carried easily on the wind making it easy for Edward to listen in on the class.

“Welcome to your first flying class. Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

The students were quick to do as she said and Edward snickered at how some of them were eyeing the brooms apprehensively as if they’d bite.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called out Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” came the course of voices as the students tried to summon their brooms up into their outstretched hands.

Edward was surprised to see that Potter’s broom had jumped right into his hand at once. Only two other students had achieved that – one of them, unfortunately, being the smug Malfoy brat.  It took a few minutes but soon the students managed to call on their brooms.  They were then shown how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and had some of their grips corrected. Edward couldn’t contain his glee when he saw Madam Hooch spend a good minute or two correcting the Malfoy boy.  When everyone was settled onto their brooms Madam Hooch stepped back to address the class as a whole again.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch said sternly. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –!”

Edward noticed that the poor Longbottom boy had jumped the gun before the countdown was finished and had launched himself into the air before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but poor Longbottom was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet – and higher still.  Even from a distance Edward could see the scared boy’s white face look down at the ground. As he got further away from the ground his mouth gaped open in terror before he finally limply slid off the broom in shock. 

The moment that he was off the broom Edward was up, dashing down the hill and across the field. His eyes never left Longbottom as the boy plummeted towards the unforgiving ground. Clapping his hands together Edward halted his run and slapped his hands onto the earth and used his alchemy to bend the ground to his whim. The earth roiled around him for a moment as the ground in front of him sank before gathering and reforming into a mass of grass and dirt that rushed up to reach the falling boy, dipping under him to form a slide meant to ease his fall. However, halfway down Longbottom must have hit a bump of some kind in the hastily made earth-slide because he began tumbling end over end the rest of the way down before landing in a heap at the bottom.  For a moment everything was utterly still and quiet – everyone in shock with what had happened. Madam Hooch snapped out of it first and marched over to join Edward by a shaking Longbottom. Her face was as white as the boy’s when she examined him.

“Broken wrist,” she muttered. “But it could have been a lot worse if you hadn’t… done  _ that _ ,” she said to Edward while gesturing at his twisted earth slide. “Come on boy – it’s all right, up you get.”

Then she turned to the rest of the class.

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Will you keep an eye on them for me, Professor Elric?”

Edward opened his mouth to answer but she’d already turned away with an arm around a tearful Longbottom as she started to lead him back to the castle saying, “Come on, dear.”

Edward huffed as he watched her leave but with a shrug he returned to his task and with a clap of his hands he began to set the ground right again, smoothing it out until it looked just as it had before it had been transfigured into a slide. He ignored a lot of the students who were staring at him in awe for what he’d just done. Instead he chose to focus on the rising confrontation unfolding before him.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?” the Malfoy boy was laughing with some of his fellow Slytherins.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” a Gryffindor girl snapped – Miss Parvati Patil if Edward remembered her name right.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said a rather unpleasant looking Slytherin girl named Pansy Parkinson. “Never thought  _ you’d _ like fat little cry-babies, Parvati.”

“Look!” Malfoy cried, darting forward and snatched something out of the grass near where he was standing. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

Edward frowned as Malfoy held up a glittering glass sphere. He was about to step forward and use his authority as a teacher, but to his surprise Potter marched up to confront the other boy.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” he said quietly. Everyone had stopped talking and turned to watch, some of them now eyeing Edward nervously, wondering what he was going to do if and when he finally stepped in.

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?”

“Give it  _ here _ !” Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and had taken off before Edward could even try to stop him.  Hovering level with the topmost branches of a nearby oak, Malfoy called, “Come and get it, Potter!”

Harry grabbed his broom.

“ _ No _ !” the Granger girl cried rushing forward to stop him. “Madam Hooch told us not to move – you’ll get us all into trouble.”

She looked worriedly at Edward who was trying his best to look impassive, curious to see what Potter would do. Potter looked right at him, looking nervous now that he remembered that there was a professor present and realized that he really could get everyone in trouble. But then he suddenly set his shoulders in a determined fashion, mounted his broom, and kicked off hard against the ground sailing up into the air. Granger and many others were now looking worriedly at Edward as he watched Potter soar higher and higher, the boy obviously feeling very much at home in the sky.  Potter then pulled his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Edward noticed how stunned the blond boy looked.

“Give it here,” Potter called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

“Oh yeah?” Malfoy called back.

Potter leaned forward on his broom and shot forward toward Malfoy. The blond only just made it out of the way in time. Potter made a sharp about-face and maintained a steady balance on his broom.

“Well, what do you know?” Edward smirked, clapping along with the students, most of whom were so engrossed in the confrontation above that they’d forgotten he was even there. “Potter’s a natural.”

“Professor!” Granger cried. “Shouldn’t you stop them? You’re a teacher.”

“Only a  _ student _ teacher,” Edward said evenly, much to the enjoyment of the other students. “I have no right to butt in on the goings-on happening during another Professor’s class as Professor Snape so kindly reminded me on the first day. I have no authority here unless things go too far or unless I choose to get involved. I am – at the moment – choosing not to, seeing as this is an issue that obviously needs to be resolved between Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy.”

Granger looked scandalized at what he’d said, obviously thinking that things had indeed gone too far and that he should intervene, but most of the other students had no such problems with Edward’s decision and were cheering freely now.

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Potter called out.

“Catch it if you can, then!” Malfoy shouted, throwing the glass ball high into the air and streaked back down toward the ground.

Potter, meanwhile, leaned forward and pointed his broom in the direction of the falling ball racing after it. Edward watched with a growing sense of exhilaration as Potter flew across the field while the students around him screamed in a mixture of excitement, terror and worry. Potter stretched out his hand and when he was about a foot off the ground he snatched up the ball just in time to pull up and spin his broom back around to race back to the class.  When he landed the boy was greeted with cheers and was crowded by his fellow Gryffindors. 

“That was some very impressive flying, Potter,” Edward said, grinning. “Was that your first time on a broom?”

Potter went stock-still before whirling around to face him looking sheepish, proud, and exhilarated at the same time – obviously coming down from the adrenaline high that flying had given him. He nodded.

“HARRY POTTER!”

The smile and pride vanished from Potter’s face in an instant and Edward grimaced as they and everyone else saw Professor McGonagall running towards them. Potter was trembling now.

“ _ Never _ – in all my time at Hogwarts–!”

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, her glasses flashing furiously in the bright sunlight. “– how  _ dare _ you – might have broken your neck–!”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor-!” Edward interjected, but she cut him off.

“Be quiet Mr. Elric,” McGonagall barked, looking surprised to see him there.

“But Professor-!” Edward tried again, but McGonagall wasn’t having it.

“That’s  _ enough _ , Elric,” she stated firmly.  “I’m surprised that you allowed this sort of thing.  I want you and Potter to follow me. Now!”

Edward raised his eyebrows at her but complied. He saw that Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle looked positively thrilled. Beside him Potter looked miserable, obviously fearing the worst as they returned to the castle and walked up the front steps. They ascended the marble staircase inside and all the while McGonagall hadn’t said a word since they’d left the field.   As they transversed the many corridors and passageways of Hogwarts Edward noticed that they were headed towards neither Dumbledore’s nor McGonagall’s offices. Maybe Potter wasn’t in as much trouble as Edward thought, but Potter was obviously not familiar enough with Hogwarts yet to notice this.  Edward was a little surprised though when McGonagall had them come to a stop in front of Flitwick’s classroom before she poked her head in.

“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?”

Wood? Edward and Potter exchanged a bewildered look before a burly fifth-year boy came out of the classroom looking just as confused as they were.

“Follow me, you three,” McGonagall said as she led them up the corridor and into an empty classroom – or at least it would have been empty if it weren’t for the poltergeist, Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

“Out, Peeves!” McGonagall barked.

Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly as he swooped out cursing rather colorfully.  McGonagall slammed the door shut behind the poltergeist with a wave of her wand before she turned to face the two boys and gestured at Edward to wait. Apparently she was going to deal with him after she was finished with whatever it was that she wanted to discuss with the boys, because it was obvious now to Edward that McGonagall was no longer cross with Potter. If anything she looked positively excited.

“Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I’ve found you a Seeker.”

The Wood boy’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight in an instant. Edward was confused though. What was a Seeker?

“Are you serious, Professor?”

“Absolutely.” McGonagall smiled.  “The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it.  Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”

Harry nodded silently, obviously stunned and confused by this turn of events.

“He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive,” McGonagall told Wood.  “Didn’t even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have done it.”

“He wasn’t too shabby on tight turns either,” Edward added thinking back to how well Potter had handled flying his broom.  “Kept his balance well enough without even the slightest wobble.”

Wood looked positively thrilled.

“Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” the older boy asked excitedly.

“Wood’s captain of the Gryffindor team,” McGonagall explained.

Oh. So that’s what this was about. Edward shook his head. He really needed to learn more about this Wizard sport that everyone was apparently obsessed with.

“He’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” Wood said as he circled around Potter, staring at him. “Light – speedy – we’ll have to get him a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I’d say.”

“I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year.  _ Flattened _ in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…” McGonagall then peered sternly over her glasses at Potter. “I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you.”

Then she smiled one of her rare genuine smiles.

“Your father would have been proud,” she said. “He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.”

Potter looked shocked by the news but managed to nod.

“Now off you two go,” McGonagall sighed, “Wood, why don’t you inform Potter about the rules and help him get sorted. I need to talk to Professor Elric here.”

Wood nodded enthusiastically, wheeling a still baffled looking Potter out of the room leaving Edward and McGonagall alone.

“Now I don’t know what you were thinking letting Potter and Malfoy carry on like that, Edward,” McGonagall frowned, “but since nothing serious happened I’ll spare you a lecture and leave that to Rolanda.  The reason I was out on the field is because Dumbledore sent me to find you. He wants to talk to you.”

“About what?” Edward asked.

“I don’t know.” McGonagall shrugged. “I assume to ask you how your classes have been going so far. I suggest that you don’t keep him waiting any longer.”

Edward nodded and hurried off to Dumbledore’s office.  When he got there he was admitted by a cheerful, “Come in!”

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk stroking a lovely old red bird that he recognized as Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix. 

“You wanted to see me?” Edward asked as he took a seat.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore nodded. “I would like your help with a small matter.”

Edward raised an eyebrow and waited for the headmaster to elaborate, only Dumbledore didn’t speak again. He got up from his desk and went over to an old portrait. After speaking softly with the occupant, the painting swung forward to reveal a safe. Dumbledore waved his wand and muttered the incantations for a few complex spells to open it and retrieved something from within. After he shut the safe and came back to his desk he handed Edward a small grubby looking package. Seeing it struck a chord with Edward thinking back to what Potter had told him in relation to the Gringotts break in. This had to be what the boy had seen Hagrid remove from that vault.

Curious as to what was inside Edward took it, but the moment it made contact with his gloved hand an indescribable energy coursed through him. He didn’t need to look inside the package to know what it was, but he opened it anyway and dumped the blood-red stone into his hand. A Philosopher’s Stone. This was the reason why Hagrid wouldn’t answer any of the boy’s questions about the Gringotts news article. Edward pursed his lips and rolled the stone over in the palm of his gloved flesh-and-blood hand before putting it back in it's package and handed it back.  He didn’t say a word, not even when Dumbledore returned the stone back behind the sealed enchanted safe and portrait.

“Edward, you know better than anyone what this is and what it is capable of,” Dumbledore sighed.  “As I told you a few weeks back, Nicolas Flamel entrusted me with this stone to keep it safe.”

He had and while Edward remembered that conversation he also remembered the one he had with Potter about the Gringotts article. Many things began to click into place and he didn’t like the picture that was taking shape.

“You’re endangering everyone in this school by having the stone here,” Edward said softly, but his eyes flashed dangerously.  “This is what the thief that broke into Gringotts wanted isn’t it?  You’re lucky that Hagrid got there first, but that doesn’t make the situation any less dangerous. That thing should be destroyed.”

“So you know about the break in… but if the stone is destroyed, Nickolas will die,” Dumbledore pointed out.

“Sad but tough,” Edward replied gruffly.  “There are people in my world who have killed for a Philosopher’s Stone. Hell! The stones were the secret reasons that wars were started up. Do you not realize just how many lives are sacrificed just to make  _ one _ of those?! How many lives are ruined? ENDED?!”

Dumbledore looked at Edward sadly and looked as old as he really was. Oh he knew all right. 

“I know, Edward,” Dumbledore said softly. “Believe me, I know. Your father was very vocal about it, like you, but you’ll have to forgive Nicolas. He’s old and perhaps finally going senile, but I must respect his wishes.”

“Fine,” Edward growled.

It was quiet for a moment before he sighed and deflated in his chair.

“So what is this “matter” that you wanted me to help you with?” he grunted.

“I want you to help me add one final measure to the defenses that the other teachers are putting in place where I’ll be permanently placing the stone while it’s at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore stated, rising to his feet.

Knowing that it was pointless to argue further, Edward followed the old headmaster out of the office and to the third floor corridor without a word. Well now he knew why this wing was out of bounds to the students, but it was a rather stupid thing to announce if this was where the Philosopher’s Stone was going to be kept. Dumbledore might as well be informing any thieves that something worth stealing was being kept hidden there. Dumbledore finally stopped outside a door at the end of the corridor and opened it, whistling a merry tune as he went. At first Edward thought Dumbledore was going all loopy on him again (Nickolas Flamel wasn’t the only ancient man going senile after all) but when he caught sight of the massive dog behind the door he gaped. The bloody beast nearly filled the entire space and had  _ three _ heads!

Edward was about to tell Dumbledore to stop whistling because it had attracted the dog’s (or was it plural: dogs’?) attention, but he soon figured out that Dumbledore’s whistling was putting the beast at ease. A few minutes later the massive dog(s) was asleep and Dumbledore was opening a trapdoor that Edward hadn’t noticed until now. Dumbledore kept whistling even after he started to descend. Edward quickly scrambled after him and quietly shut the door behind him as he climbed down some sort of ladder that seemed to go on for miles.  At the bottom Dumbledore had his wand lit so Edward did the same (though how the old man had managed to reach the bottom so quickly was a mystery to Edward). It was pitch black down there and there wasn’t much to see until Edward cast his wand upwards to a nearly demolished ceiling, which was a lot closer than he’d expected. He hadn’t realized that he’d passed through the middle of a floor with a massive hole in it on the way down. Then he thought he saw movement and cast his wand light upwards. A vine was curling in on itself even deeper into the shadows over the lip of the huge hole in what little that remained of the floor above.

“…Is that Devil Snare?” Edward asked.

“It is,” Dumbledore nodded. “Pomona tells me that in a few weeks they will have grown enough to carpet the entire floor above us and over the hole.”

“One of the Stone’s defenses?” Edward asked.

“The first of many,” Dumbledore sighed. “This way please.”

Edward then followed the old headmaster down a long sloping corridor until they came upon a large empty high ceilinged room.

“What’s this space supposed to be?” Edward asked.

“Not sure yet. Filius is in charge of this room and has yet to put up whatever enchantments he has decided to use,” Dumbledore mused.

“Alright…” Edward nodded, following Dumbledore through the door at the other end. The next room was twice the size of the last one, but it was tiled like a checkerboard with stone statues lined up against the walls with rejects scrapped in what looked like pits. After a quick examination of the statues while they continued towards the door at the other end, he realized that they looked like chess pieces. He jumped when one of the statue chess pieces (a knight if the horse was any indication) drew its sword and made them halt. It was then that Edward realized that the stone statues scattered around the chamber weren’t in the process of being built, but had been  _ demolished _ . These were  _ wizard _ chess pieces and Edward had quickly learned over the first two weeks at Hogwarts which of his fellow teachers loved chess.

“Minerva?” he asked dryly thinking back to the few games he’d played in the staff rooms with her during some of their lunch breaks over the last two weeks.

“Of course,” Dumbledore chuckled. “She does love a good game of chess. She’s still experimenting with their transfiguration though. The process is a little skewed since the pieces are already enchanted when she enlarges them. She’s getting close though. She’ll most likely have worked out all the kinks by the end of the week.”

With a wave of his wand the knight statue stood down and let them pass into the next chamber, which was another huge empty room like the one Filius Flitwick, was supposed to be working on only this one looked like one of those rooms used for underground fighting rings that Edward had seen in Amestris.

“Quirrel will be putting some creature in here for any intruders to face,” Dumbledore added absently before Edward could ask. “And Severus is working on a potion’s puzzle of some kind for this next room.”

“Alright…” Edward mused as they walked through another empty room and entered what appeared to be the last chamber, which was also empty.

“This is the chamber where I’ll put the stone and it’s final defense,” Dumbledore stated.

“Ok,” Edward nodded slowly, “so what did you want my help with?”

“Edward, there are very few people out there who know much about alchemy,” Dumbledore sighed. “I was hoping that you could place one final defense in this room.”

Edward was quiet for a moment as he looked around. The room was a long rectangle and looked like a stadium of some sort with stairs around the edges that led down to the floor half a story down. He thought back to the defenses that were going to be put in place but paused when he recalled McGonagall’s living wizard chess set. The knight… That gave him an idea.

Edward darted back into the chess room and headed to one of the pits where scraps of the ruined and discarded experiment chess pieces were. With a clap of his hands he transmutated all of the discarded rubble.

“Impressive,” Dumbledore mused with a small smile when he caught up with the young Alchemist and saw what he’d made.  “What will they be able to do?”

“Protect the stone,” Edward said simply, but a smirk was working itself into place. “And beat the crap out of anyone stupid enough to try and take it.”

There were twelve stone suits that resembled Al’s armor. All they needed was a few spells to get them moving and alchemic seals placed on them to make them impervious to spells cast by anyone other than himself who didn’t know alchemy.

Edward had almost been late to his class that afternoon, but he’d managed to at least get the twelve stone Als into the last chamber. He’d work on getting them moving over the weekend when he had more free time.

When Edward arrived in the Great Hall for dinner he sat by Flitwick and Sprout as usual and dug into his meal heartily. While he chatted openly with his fellow staff members he couldn’t help but look over at the Gryffindor table where he spotted Potter with the younger three of the four Weasley boys talking excitedly. When the twins left leaving Potter and the youngest redhead alone, the Malfoy boy and his two cronies approached. 

Edward frowned as the boys exchanged quick and probably heated words before the three Slytherins headed back to their own table. When they were gone, Weasley and Potter talked to each other briefly before getting up to leave. The Granger girl looked worried and was talking to Potter in what looked like an urgent manner, but the two boys shrugged her off and left the Great Hall. Edward was tempted to ask Granger what was going on, but knew that she wouldn’t tell him. Not if it could mean getting her fellow housemates in trouble and lose house points over it. Besides, who was he to get involved in a student’s personal matters? Deciding to let the matter go (for now) he returned his thoughts to the conversation he was supposed to be having with Flitwick and Sprout who thankfully hadn’t noticed his inattention. 

After dinner Edward was cornered by Madam Hooch and given a scolding for what he’d allowed to happen in her class during her absence. McGonagall had obviously mentioned something to her about it during dinner. Out of both guilt and to get her off his back, he agreed to help coach and oversee Potter’s Quidditch training and practice. He confessed that he didn’t know a thing about the sport, but she’d obviously assumed as much and had unloaded a heavy book into his arms while telling him to study up. Grumbling, he stalked off to his chambers and ran into an amused looking Snape who’d apparently witnessed the entire conversation.

“Shut it, Severus,” he grumbled, but that only seemed to amuse the Potion’s Master even more.

“I heard that Dumbledore has asked you to help with our little project,” Snape mused, skillfully changing the subject.

“Project?” Edward frowned for a moment before he realized what Snape was implying. “Oh! Yeah.”

Scowling even more, Edward opened the door to his office and set the heavy Quidditch text down with a loud THUMP while Snape soundlessly shut the door behind them.

“That thing should be destroyed, not guarded,” he huffed, plopping down into his chair.

Snape raised an eyebrow and noticed that Al in the portrait over Edward’s personal chamber’s door was shuffling about nervously within his frame.

“What’s so dangerous about this stone other than the fact that it grants immortality?” he finally asked because Dumbledore had never really explained to him what the stone was and it was obvious that Edward knew more about it than he’d been told.

“Do you know how a stone like that is created, Severus?” Edward asked darkly with a slightly haunted look in his eyes. The expression unnerved Snape a little but he remained silent and waited for him to continue. “The Philosopher’s Stone is created using hundreds and sometimes thousands of human lives. It is comprised of it’s victims’ souls and holds nearly unlimited power. It’s uses in creating an elixir for eternal life and turning objects into gold are nothing compared to the amplifying power it contains when put in the hands of someone that can tap into that power and use it.  Where I’m from, cities were destroyed in the creation of one of these stones and whole nations were brought to ruin in war efforts put into effect to secretly make and obtain one. I’ve known good men who were killed and innocent people whose lives were brought to ruin all because of the extent someone was willing to go to, to possess a Philosopher’s Stone.”

Snape was quiet for a moment before nodding.

“I see,” was all he said.

Edward nodded before letting out a sigh and sunk even lower into his seat.

“And Dumbledore  _ knows _ all of this, but he won’t betray the confidence of Flamel,” he said softly. “Severus, that stone is nothing but trouble and is too dangerous to be kept within the walls of a school no matter how well protected it is. Someone is going to get hurt. Nothing good happens when a Philosopher’s Stone is involved.”

Snape nodded again in understanding.

“Then it would appear that all we can do at the moment is do our best to prevent that,” he said. “Maybe Dumbledore can arrange it so that you can talk to Flamel yourself. Since you know so much about this stone maybe you could convince him to destroy his.”

Edward nodded absently as he stared up at his portrait of Al who was trying to give him a comforting smile.

“Maybe,” he mused.

 

Later that night Edward had patrol duty to make sure that students weren’t up and out of bed outside of their house common rooms. He had just passed through the Charms Wing when he heard the sound of running footsteps. On instinct, Edward ducked around the corner and peeked around to see who it was. He was surprised to see Potter, Weasley, Granger and Longbottom all doubled over panting in the middle of the hall.

“I think we’ve lost him,” Potter panted, wiping his forehead.

Poor Longbottom was wheezing and spluttering, his arm still wrapped in bandaging. He’d obviously left the hospital wing recently.

“I –  _ told _ – you,” Granger gasped, clutching at her chest, “I – told – you.”

“We’ve got to get back to Gryffindor tower,” Weasley said, voice almost an octave higher than usual. “As quickly as possible.”

“Malfoy tricked you,” Granger said to Potter. “You realize that, don’t you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room. Malfoy must have tipped him off.”

Edward wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was sure that it had something to do with the conversation he’d witnessed during dinner. And it appeared that poor Longbottom had gotten caught up in the middle of it.

“Let’s go,” Potter finally sighed, but the quartet hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom at the students. It was Peeves and when the poltergeist caught sight of them he gave a squeal of delight.

“Shut up, Peeves – please,” Potter hissed. “You’ll get us thrown out.”

“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please!” Potter begged sounding a little desperate since Peeves was hardly being quiet.

“Should tell Filch, I should,” Peeves said in a saintly voice, but Edward could see the ghost’s eyes glitter wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Get out of the way,” Ron snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves, which was a big mistake.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

Ducking under Peeves, the four students ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they disappeared up a staircase.

Edward decided that he’d had enough and to put a stop to Peeves’ shouting before he woke up the whole castle.

“Shut it, Peeves,” he barked as he made himself turn back into the Charms Wing.

“But there are students out of bed, Professor,” the ghost cackled with delight. “Shouldn’t the little-!”

“I'M NOT LITTLE! DON'T CALL ME MIDGET! OR SHORTY! OR SHRIMP OR SO HELP ME YOU WILL SEE EXACTLY WHAT THIS ALCHEMIST CAN DO!” Edward shouted, knowing full well that he was overreacting, but it was kind of a knee-jerk reflex whenever he heard the word. He knew that Peeves had probably been referring to Potter and the others, but the shocked look on the poltergeist’s face was so priceless Edward kept up the rant, shouting at the ghost until he flew away looking startled. Especially when Edward started flinging spells that actually affected the poltergeist. The alchemist hadn’t spent the summer in the castle putting up with the ghosts without learning how to deal with the annoying ones.

Almost a second after Peeves was gone Filch finally arrived on the scene looking bewildered.

“Professor Elric? What’s this all about?” he asked with his cat at his heels. “I heard Peeves shouting something about students being out of bed.”

“DO I LOOK LIKE A STUDENT TO YOU?!” Edward snapped. “You know what? Never mind. DON’T ANSWER THAT! Good _ night, _ Mr. Filch.”

With that said he stormed off down the corridor in a huff leaving a confused Filch behind him. Once he turned the corner and hurried up the staircase though, he allowed himself a small chuckle. Well that had been fun. Now it was time to find Potter and make sure that the boy and his companions made it back to Gryffindor Tower without any further problems. He stepped off on the next landing, finding fibers from a pink fuzzy slipper in the middle of the hall, which meant that they were hiding on this floor.  He froze though when he realized where he was. This was the third floor corridor and there was only one room that they could have gone in. Now normally he wouldn’t have worried because he’d been told that the door was locked. The door was charmed to lock automatically to keep students out and any intruders stupid enough to enter in… but the Granger girl was smart. She probably knew the unlocking spell… and in a hurry to hide not one of the four panicked fleeing eleven-year-old students would have checked the room before entering first which meant-!

“AHHHH!”

Edward pelted towards the door at the end of the corridor and whipped his wand out, unlocking the door and allowed the four students to tumble out before shutting it in the three snapping faces of the monstrous dog.

“Are you all alright?” Edward asked, kneeling down to check on poor Longbottom who looked like he was hyperventilating.

“I think so,” Weasley said with wide eyes.

“Thank you, Professor,” Granger gasped, leaning against the stone wall.

“No problem,” Edward sighed. “But now you know why this corridor is off limits.”

“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Weasley groused. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

“You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” Granger snapped, “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

Edward frowned. Damn. Granger really was a sharp one that was for sure. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t just be Potter that he’d have to keep an eye on during the school year.

“The floor?” Weasley cried incredulously. “I wasn’t looking at it’s feet! I was a bit preoccupied with it’s heads! Or maybe you didn’t notice. There were  _ three _ !” 

“It was standing on a trapdoor,” Granger stated as if talking to a slow child, “which means it’s guarding something.”

“Guarding something?” Potter repeated looking confused.

“Yes, now if you all don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed before any of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed, or  _ worse _ expelled!”

“She needs to sort out her priorities,” Edward heard Weasley mutter to Longbottom and Potter who both nodded in agreement.

“I agree, Miss Granger,” Edward sighed. “Let’s get you lot to bed. I’ve made enough of a fool of myself for one night in distracting both Peeves and Filch to get them off your backs so let’s get going before I regret not turning you in.”

“You mean you aren’t going to do anything?” Granger asked, surprised.

“Of course I’m going to do something.” Edward rolled his eyes with a smirk. “I’m going to get you four back to Gryffindor Tower, now come on.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Potter said tiredly as he and the other three followed Edward.

“No problem.” Edward shrugged.  “Though I  _ would _ like to know why four first year students are up and out of bed in the middle of the night.”

Potter looked sheepish.

“Malfoy challenged Harry to a duel in the trophy room, Professor,” Weasley stated slowly. “I was going along to be his second. Hermione ended up coming because she followed us out of the common room but couldn’t get back in because the Fat Lady was missing from her portrait. Then we ran into Neville who was asleep in the hall because he couldn’t remember the password to get in when he left the hospital wing, so he came along too.”

Edward frowned. He wasn’t well practiced in wizard dueling, but he’d had a few mock duels with Snape. Hearing that a couple of students – first years especially – were going to duel though made him a little angry. Someone could have gotten hurt.

“But Malfoy tricked them, Professor,” Granger stated quietly in the boys’ defense when she saw his angry expression. “I  _ tried _ to tell them it was a bad idea, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Boys hardly ever do,” Edward sighed, then chuckled, shaking his head. “I know I hardly ever listen.”

Granger looked up at him wide-eyed.

“What?” Edward chuckled. “I’m hardly one to follow the rules myself, Miss Granger, and please remember that I’m not  _ that _ much older than you. At your age I got into quite a bit trouble and was very reckless. Still am actually. Though I can’t say that I would have locked myself in a room with a three-headed dog. That’s just suicidal. You’re lucky I got to you when I did.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Professor.” Weasley smiled.

“But how did you find us?” Potter asked. “Like you said, that corridor is forbidden. Why would you be there?”

“Simple,” Edward stated. “I followed you after dispatching Peeves.”

“You  _ followed _ us?” Granger asked.

“I was patrolling the corridors,” Edward explained and then told them how he got rid of the poltergeist and Filch and how he came to find them. His short story earned him not only a few laughs but their trust and respect as well.

They didn’t run into any other obstacles on their way to the Gryffindor common room and Edward easily smoothed things over with the Fat Lady to ensure that no one would know of their little adventure. He made sure that all four were headed up to bed before heading back to his own quarters and fell back into his own bed with an annoyed sigh. He had seen Potter’s contemplative look on his way up to bed and just knew that the boy was connecting the dots. He had a feeling that Potter knew what would soon be placed beneath the trapdoor that the three-headed monster dog was guarding.

“Great,” Edward growled aloud before flopping over onto his back to glare up at the ceiling. “Just great.”

He was going to have to keep an even closer eye on Potter than he thought.


	4. Quidditch and Holiday Adventures

The next morning Edward went through his usual routine. He stretched and exercised by the lake, took a shower, got dressed and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. On his way he ran into Flitwick and together they continued on to the Great Hall discussing morning lesson plans. Just as they were nearing their destination both Edward and Flitwick noticed Potter, Weasley, the Malfoy boy and his two goons Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was holding a long wrapped package that was obviously either Potter’s or Weasley’s. 

“…You couldn’t afford half the handle,” Malfoy was saying to Weasley as Edward and Flitwick got within hearing distance. “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.”

Edward decided to clear his throat loudly to get the boys’ attention while Flitwick stood at Malfoy’s elbow.

“Not arguing, I hope boys,” the short man squeaked. 

“Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,” Malfoy said quickly, thrusting the parcel into Potter’s arms.

“Yes, yes, that’s right.” Flitwick nodded beaming. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstance, Potter. And what model is it?”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir. And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” Potter answered trying not to smile too widely or laugh. Edward didn’t blame him. The Malfoy boy’s outraged and shocked face was absolutely priceless.

“That it is,” Edward said with a smile. “Now why don’t you boys run along and prepare for your classes. I’ll see you all this afternoon in Professor Quirrell's class.”

“Yes sir,” Weasley and Potter beamed before racing off.

Malfoy merely nodded his head before storming off with his friends trailing behind him. Once they were all out of sight Edwards allowed himself a few chuckles as he and Flitwick entered the Great Hall.

“Something funny, Edward?” Flitwick asked him as they sat at the staff table. 

“Oh nothing,” Edward smiled. “Just enjoying how energetic those boys were.”

“Yes, it is rather enjoyable to see students so enthusiastic about their studies,” Flitwick agreed happily.

Edward merely nodded, holding back a disbelieving snort. Was his colleague that blind to the situation?

While he was finishing his breakfast Edward heard someone clear their throat. Looking up he noticed a nervous, familiar looking fifth year boy. Edward wracked his brain trying to remember who this particular student was.

“Uh… Professor Elric?” the boy stammered.

“Yes?” Edward nodded.

“Umm… Madam Hooch told me to inform you that tonight at seven I’ll be taking Potter out for his first Quidditch lesson. …She said you’d supervise?”

“Ah.” Edward nodded, remembering now. The boy was Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain. “Yes, Madam Hooch did instruct me to supervise Potter’s practice sessions. I’ll make sure to be on the field after Professor Quirrell's last class gets out at 6:30.”

“Great!” Wood nodded, but then paused. “We’ve never had to have anyone supervise our practice sessions before, Professor. If you don’t mind me asking… why now? Is it because Potter is a first year?”

“I’m sure that’s part of it.” Edward shrugged, “That’s Madam Hooch’s excuse anyway, but the main reason I’ve been asked to supervise Potter’s practice sessions is because I allowed something to happen in her class and now she’s punishing me. I’ll see you and Potter at seven, Wood.”

The teenager – who was only two years his junior – nodded, acknowledging the dismissal and walked off. Edward sighed, frowning. That boy was Al’s age and yet he had been nervous about talking to him simply because he was a teacher. A student teacher granted, but still a teacher.

“Rolanda has you keeping an eye on Potter’s Quidditch practices now, does she?” Flitwick chuckled.

“Yeah,” Edward sighed. “I spent the evening skimming through that blasted book she gave me before I took my night shift patrolling the castle so that I’d at least have a basic understanding of the sport.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the experience.” Flitwick beamed. “Who knows? You might become such an expert that she’ll have you work as a co-referee.” 

“Yeah right,” Edward snorted.

After breakfast, the rest of Edward’s day started speeding up on him. Today was one of his fuller schedules. He had three classes with Quirrell that morning, an Alchemy class of his own, then lunch, another Alchemy class, and then four more D.A.D.A classes. When seven o’clock rolled around Edward wanted nothing more than to go to the Great Hall and get something to eat, but instead made his way out to the Quidditch pitch. It was a rather interesting looking stadium. It was oval shaped with raised stands around the field with enough seating for the entire school, staff and even some guests. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end.

When he arrived Edward noticed Potter soaring around the field on his new broomstick. Edward smiled; having to admit that Potter was indeed-

“He’s certainly a natural, isn’t he, Professor?”

Edward forced himself not to jump. He’d been so preoccupied watching Potter that he hadn’t noticed Wood join him.

“…You know, I was just thinking the same thing.” Edward smiled easily at the excited looking teen. “You better get him down here though so that we can get started. They’re serving roast beef tonight and I’m starving.”

“Right,” Wood nodded, walking out on the field lugging a large wooden crate under his arm. “Hey, Potter, come down!”

Potter zipped down, pulling out of a sharp dive and landed rather gracefully next to Wood. Edward smiled, leaning against the wall of the nearest stand to watch.

“Right,” Wood was saying. “Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it’s not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers.”

Edward watched as Potter nodded seriously, absorbing all that Wood was telling him.

“Three Chasers,” the boy repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

“This ball’s called the Quaffle,” Wood continued. “The Chasers throw hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?”

“The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,” Potter recited. “So – that’s sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn’t it?”

“What’s basketball?” Wood asked curiously. 

Edward chuckled, drawing attention to himself. Potter looked surprised to see him. Obviously no one had told him that Edward was going to be supervising his practice sessions.

“It’s a muggle sport, Wood,” Edward explained. “It’s similar to Quidditch, except there is only one hoop on either side of a rectangular court and the players all play with one ball on the ground and not up in the air on brooms. I used to play basketball a couple of times back where I’m from. I was always picked last though for teams.”

“Why’s that?” Wood asked.

“Taller people have an advantage in the sport,” Potter answered tactfully.

“So you were picked last, Professor, because you’re-!” Wood began and Edward glared, daring him to finish that sentence. 

“…Vertically challenged?” Potter offered up generously.

“Not my fault everyone is so bloody tall,” Edward grumbled, shaking his head. “Anyways, Wood, you’re supposed to be teaching Potter about Quidditch, not asking about muggle sports.”

“Right…” Wood coughed. “Now, there’s another player on each side who’s called the Keeper – I’m Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring.”

“Three Chasers, one Keeper,” said Potter, again looking determined to remember everything. “And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?” He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

“I’ll show you now. Take this,” Wood said as he handed Potter a small club. “I’m going to show you what the Bludgers do. These two are the Bludgers.”

Wood then indicated two identical black balls that were smaller than the Quaffle, and more around the size of a softball. Edward noted that the two buggers were straining against the straps holding them in.

“Stand back,” Wood warned as he bent down and released one of the Bludgers.

At once the Bludger rose high into the air and then pelted right back down heading straight for Potter’s face. Potter swung his arm back and clubbed the menacing ball sending it zigzagging away. It zoomed around their heads and then swooped down to take a shot at Edward. Instinctively Edward clapped his hands and raised the ground up in front of him to make a shield. The Bludger made an incredible dent in his wall, but it zipped away and then went straight for Wood. Wood dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

“See?” Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapped it down safely. “The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That’s why you have two Beaters on each team – the Weasley twins are ours – it’s their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So – think you’ve got all that?”

“Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team,” Potter reeled off.

“Very good,” Wood beamed.

“Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Harry asked nervously.

“Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that,” Wood reassured the younger boy.

“I find that hard to believe,” Edward growled, clapping his hands again as he disassembled his shield and restored the ground to the smooth field turf it had been before. “Bloody things could take someone’s head off. I’m not surprised that first years aren’t normally allowed to play.”

“Ah, sorry, Professor,” Wood smiled weakly, flinching slightly at Edward’s irritated look before he returned to his lecture. “Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That’s you. And you don’t have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers–”

“–unless they crack my head open,” Potter quipped and Edward smirked.

“Don’t worry, the Weasley’s are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they’re like a pair of human Bludgers themselves.”

“No kidding,” Edward snorted, thinking about the two troublemakers. As irritating as they were, Edward rather liked their antics. At least class was never boring with those two around. That and they had a gift for pissing off Filch and anyone who could wind that man up into a tizzy and get away with it was good in Edward’s books.

Wood then reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared to the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a golf ball.  It was bright gold and had little fluttering wings.

“ _ This _ ,” Wood said, “is the Golden Snitch, and it’s the most important ball of the lot. It’s very hard to catch because it’s so fast and difficult to see. It’s the Seeker’s job to catch it. You’ve got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team’s Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That’s why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing in substitutes so the players could get some sleep. Well that’s it – any questions?”

Potter shook his head.

After that the next half-hour was spent with Potter flying around on his broomstick catching – surprise –  _ golf balls _ that Wood and Edward threw in any and every direction for the boy to catch, often throwing two at the same time in opposing directions. Potter didn’t miss a single one, and Wood looked positively thrilled as they all headed back up to the castle.

“That Quidditch cup’ll have our name on it this year,” Wood happily cheered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.”

“Just how many bloody Weasleys are there?” Edward snorted.

“Well, there’s Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred, George, and that other kid Harry’s age,” Wood mused.

“Ron,” Potter added. “They also have a little sister. I think her name is Ginny.”

“Right, so that makes seven Weasleys – nine if you include Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” Edward mused. “Now enough about Quidditch! I’m starving!”

Wood laughed and Potter smiled widely as Edward picked up the pace.

 

The next couple of months were a blur for Edward. He was just so busy with all of his alchemy classes, Quirrell's classes, night patrols, Potter’s Quidditch practice sessions, and the completion of his Al armor statues that were now guarding the room where the Philosopher’s Stone was going to be kept. With everything that was going on he hadn’t had any time to research a way to get home. It was frustrating, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. Every weekend was spent recovering once the entire maze of obstacles guarding the stone was complete. 

Now it was Halloween morning and Edward was savoring the smells of baking pumpkin and apple cider that seemed to permeate the entire castle. Edward was having a rather enjoyable day until someone ran into him in the courtyard as he was returning to the castle from the lake after teaching his after lunch Alchemy class. It was the Granger girl and she was crying.

“Miss Granger?” He blinked in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing, Professor,” the girl mumbled and tried to hurry past him, but Edward got a good grip on her arm.

“Now hold up. No one cries over nothing.” Edward frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Again, she wouldn’t answer, but she did look over her shoulder. Edward followed her line of sight and saw Potter and Weasley leave the courtyard and enter the castle with a few other boys from their year. Edward hummed, took a look at his pocket watch to discern the time, and then wrapped an arm around Granger’s shoulders.

“Do you have any more classes to attend?” he asked.

She shook her head, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her robes.

“I don’t have to meet with Professors Flitwick and Sprout for another half hour. Why don’t we continue this conversation in my office over a cup of tea?” Edward said, leading her back into the castle and down to the dungeons and his office.

Granger tentatively took a seat in front of his desk while he whipped up a cup of tea for her. She seemed like a lemon tea sort of person. The girl tentatively took a sip of her drink before taking a larger gulp.

“Now who do I have to chew out for making a girl cry?” Edward smiled at her as he sat down with a cup of his own.

“It’s nothing, Professor,” Granger muttered.

“Like hell it’s not,” Edward snorted. “Like I said, you don’t cry over nothing.”

Granger hung her head, tracing the lip of her cup with a finger.

“Was it something Potter and his friends said?”

“Ron Weasley,” she mumbled.

“And what did he say that upset you so much?” Edward frowned.

“It’s really nothing, Professor,” the girl shook her head. “I’m just… It’s nothing.”

Edward pursed his lips together in frustration.

“Miss Granger… Hermione,” Edward sighed, getting her to look up at him by using her first name. “I promise that no one will get in trouble and no house points will be taken off for whatever offence Weasley has committed against you. Unless it is something bigger than a few carelessly spoken words. I just want to help you.”

“It’s really nothing, Professor-!”

“Edward,” Edward interjected. “Please, Hermione, while it’s just us outside of a teacher-student setting I would prefer it if you did not address me as such. I’m only seventeen – only six years older than you are – and being called Professor has seriously been getting on my nerves.”

“Edward… I… We…” Granger paused as she gathered herself. “We were in Charms class levitating feathers. I had Ron for a partner. He wasn’t doing the spell right so I showed him how it was done. After class though…”

“What did he say?” Edward pushed gently, but now had an idea what had happened.

Granger teared up again, huffed, sat on the edge of her seat and spoke in the most mocking voice of the Weasley boy that she could muster and said, “It’s Levi- _ o _ -sa, not Levi-o- _ sah _ . She’s a nightmare, honestly. It’s no wonder that she hasn’t got any friends.”

The new tears spilled over and she cried into her hands. Edward rose from his seat feeling a little awkward. He wasn’t used to crying girls, but he forced himself to crouch down in front of the sobbing girl and gently gripped her shoulders.

“I-I-I’m so –  _ hic _ – so sorry, Professor,” Granger hiccupped. “I-I-I know that it’s silly –  _ hic _ – to be so upset over s-some stupid w-words. B-but it’s t-true. I-I d-don’t have a-any friends.”

“Now I’m sure that’s not true,” Edward tried to say soothingly. “What about Longbottom? I see you helping him all the time in Quirrell's classes.”

“B-but he-he laughed with Ron and t-the others,” Hermione sobbed. “He only c-comes to me when he needs help with his work.”

“Ok, forget the boys. We boys are brats at your age anyway,” Edward scoffed, grinning as Granger gave a short giggle. “What about the girls?”

“They all think I’m a know-it-all,” Hermione sniffed.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Edward asked.

“It doesn’t get you any friends,” the girl started crying again. “ _ I _ don’t have any friends.”

“Nonsense,” Edward shook her slightly. “ _ I _ am your friend. Or at least I’d like to be. I could use a friend who can talk to me on an intellectual level and isn’t twice my age.” 

Granger – no,  _ Hermione _ – gave him a small smile.

“I-I’d like that too,” she mumbled.

Edward smiled at her, and offered her a handkerchief. He happened to glance up at the clock and groaned. 

“It would seem that I’m running a tad bit late,” he sighed as he stood back up.

“I’m sorry!” Hermione squeaked, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t mean to-!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Edward laughed. “Why don’t you head to the girls bathroom a couple floors up, clean yourself up and then get to that feast. I heard that they’re serving all sorts of goodies tonight.”

“Ok… Edward,” Hermione smiled, wiping away more tears.

Edward smiled back at her and led her out of his office and up to the second floor where they went their separate ways. He met up with his fellow teachers in the teacher’s lounge to discuss a few professional matters about grades and some tests that they were going to be giving out in a few weeks before heading down to the Great Hall to take their places at the High Table. The feast had gotten well underway by then, and Edward eagerly tucked into the meal, but a half hour later the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Quirrell came running in hollering.

“TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! Troll in the dungeon!”

Then entire hall fell silent and Dumbledore rose from his seat, everyone’s eyes riveted on the trembling man that stood in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Thought you ought to know,” Quirrel whimpered before falling over in a cold faint.

A beat later the hall was in an uproar, students screaming and rising from their seats in a hurry.

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore called out above the racket. “Everyone will please not panic! Now, Prefects will lead their House back to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”

Orders given, the scared students started to flow in a more orderly fashion out of the Great Hall and once everyone was gone, Dumbledore started giving orders to the staff. Edward was part of the group that followed the headmaster to the dungeons. He was on edge, just waiting for them to come upon the troll but after a quick search of the dungeons it wasn’t found. Dumbledore then ordered the teachers to split into pairs and to start searching the other floors starting with the corridors near the dormitories to keep the students safe. It wasn’t until then that Edward noticed that Snape was missing.

Letting that little matter go for now, Edward was paired with McGonagall and assigned to search the second floor. Just as they stepped off the staircase the floor shook and a faint roar could be heard echoing down the corridor. Alarmed, Edward and McGonagall starting running in that direction, nearly colliding with Snape and a newly conscious Quirrell.

McGonagall gasped, coming to a halt but Edward didn’t stick around to chat. He ducked around Snape and Quirrell who let out a startled yelp, and slid around a corner before pelting down the corridor, hearing more roars and feeling vibrations before the entire floor shook. Finally he turned around one last corridor, wand out, and spotted the open door to the girl’s lavatory. He felt his heart jump into his throat. The last time he’d seen Hermione she’d been heading for this bathroom.

Edward practically threw himself through the doorway but pulled up to a skidding halt staring in awe at the scene before him. Well he’d found the troll. It was a blue-gray mass that looked twice Hagrid’s size lying flat out on the floor with a humongous club lying by its head. Next to it was Potter, Weasley and Hermione looking at him with wide eyes. Potter looked fine if a little high on adrenaline and Weasley still had his wand raised. Hermione, however, was shaking and breathing hard, bits of wood from the crushed toilet stalls and procaine from the shattered sinks were in her hair and all over her robes.

“Are all of you alright?” Edward asked just as McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell entered the bathroom.

“Ah! Oh my goodness! E-explain yourselves! Both of you!” McGonagall ordered, hand over her heart.

“…Well… you see,” Potter paused.

“Ah… what happened is…” Weasley stammered.

“It’s my fault, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione suddenly stated.

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall gaped, in shock. Edward also stared.

“I went looking for the troll,” Hermione said, head down. “I’ve read about them and thought that I could handle it. But I was wrong. If Harry and Ron hadn’t come and found me… I’d probably be dead.”

It was quiet for a moment and Edward observed Potter and Weasley out of the corner of his eye. Both boys looked incredulous for a moment, but quickly arranged their expressions to look as if the story wasn’t anything new to them. Edward himself was in shock. Why was Hermione lying for these two boys? Weasley especially. They were the ones who’d made her cry earlier today. If it weren’t for them, Hermione would have been at the feast and this incident could have been avoided. But even so, why lie? It wasn’t as if the truth would have reflected badly on anyone.  If anything it would make the two boys look even better since they had gone after her to warn her of the danger…

“Be that as it may, it was an extremely foolish thing to do. I would have expected more rational behavior on your part. I’m very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgment,” McGonagall said crisply. “As for you two gentlemen, I just hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many first year students could take on a fully-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. Five points… will be awarded to each of you. For sheer dumb luck!” 

While Professor McGonagall was speaking Edward noticed Harry staring at something behind them. Edward turned his head enough to see out of the corner of his eye. Snape had a rather nasty looking wound on his leg that he was quick to cover up upon noticing Potter’s attention. Edward frowned a little. Just what had Snape been doing before he and Quirrel nearly ran into Edward and McGonagall?

“Professor Elric, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Granger, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley up to Gryffindor Tower? The students are finishing the feast in their houses,” McGonagall sudden requested.

Edward nodded, placing a hand at Hermione’s back and led the three out of the demolished bathroom. After rounding a corner though Edward pulled Hermione aside, whipped out his wand and cast a cleaning spell to get all the rubble off of her. He absently did the same for Potter and Weasley to clean their robes of the dust.

“Are you alright?” Edward asked, checking a small cut on her temple.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said with a small smile.

“Funny. I seem to recall you saying the same thing when you were crying in my office a couple hours ago,” Edward said with a wry grin.

“Well it’s true this time.” The girl blushed. “Ron and Harry found me in time before I was seriously hurt.”

“So I see.” Edward nodded and looked over at the two fidgeting boys. “But what I don’t understand is why you’d lie for them, when we all know that it was their hurtful words that put you in that situation in the first place.”

Potter and Weasley had the decency to look down at their shoes.

“So why did you?” Edward asked.

Hermione only shrugged.

Edward studied her for a moment before chuckling, shaking his head.

“Oh, Hermione,” Edward grinned. “That was very big of you. Very big indeed. I hope you boys appreciate what she’s done.”

Without another word, he headed off down the corridor. The three first years traded confused looks before racing after him.

 

After returning Hermione, Potter and Weasley to Gryffindor Tower, Edward headed back down to the dungeons. On his way to his rooms he came across Snape who was limping now.

“Severus, would you care to tell me why you’re being an idiot and not getting that leg treated?” Edward snarked as he fell into step beside the Potion’s Master.

Snape glared but didn’t comment.

Edward gave a heavy put-upon sigh, grabbed Snape’s arm with his automail limb and proceeded to drag the elder man down the hall and into his office where he deposited Snape into a chair.

“If you’re going to be an idiot about this at least let me treat it,” Edward griped as Snape continued to glare at him. “Though I would like an explanation, Severus. Where were you while the rest of us were down here in the dungeons looking for the troll? And how did you get that bite? If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you were foolish enough to be in the same room as the three-headed monstrosity Dumbledore is keeping on the third floor.”

Snape’s face smoothed out into a neutral mask and Edward knew that he’d hit a nerve.

“What in the world where you doing with that dog?” Edward sighed, taking a look at Severus’ leg. “I can understand now why you’re not at Poppy’s office in the hospital wing getting this treated – after all, how would you explain it to her since she doesn’t know about the bloody beast – but what I don’t understand is why you’d be messing with that thing in the first place.”

“Quirrell,” Snape muttered. “He was the one trying to get past the Cerberus. I was merely there to prevent him from doing so. I left to head him off, but got careless and was bitten.”

“So you think Quirrel is after the stone?” Edward raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are we talking about the same person? Quirrell? The man who fainted in the middle of the Great Hall over a measly troll when we both know he’s got an even bigger one down in the stone’s task maze?”

“The man is more than he seems,” Snape insisted. “I’d keep an eye out for him if I were you.”

“Why don’t you keep worrying about Quirrell and I’ll worry about what we’re going to do about Potter,” Edward sighed. “The boy’s smart. He saw you hurt, and he’s bound to put the pieces together.” He was not going to inform Snape about the fact that Potter already knew about the three-headed dog, though. He didn’t want to get Longbottom and Hermione in trouble for something that Potter and Weasley were at fault for.

Snape glared at the wall.

“Don’t worry,” Edward sighed. “The boy trusts me to an extent. I’m sure I can keep him out of any serious trouble in the meantime. Besides, he’s got a Quidditch match coming up next Saturday. I’m sure he’ll be too preoccupied with that.”

“Be that as it may, I suggest keeping an eye on Quirrel too,” Snape muttered.

Edward merely nodded and finished tending to Snape’s bite wound. It wasn’t as good as what Madam Pomfrey would have done, but it would have to do. 

 

After that night Edward noticed that Potter and Weasley had not only started acting a lot nicer towards Hermione, they had even started to sit with her during meals. He was happy to see the trio getting along so well. The three even stopped by his office together a couple times during that weekend for lunch and for help on homework. Edward found himself addressing Potter and Weasley by their first names on such occasions. He saw even more of them after Gryffindor Quidditch team practices, which were increasing in frequency as the first game of the season drew closer and closer. Edward was starting to get very short with Wood on that matter since his schedule was already hectic without all of the added practices. The colder weather wasn’t helping his mood either.

Finally Saturday rolled around and Edward found himself approaching the Gryffindor table that morning after he’d finished eating his breakfast.

“You’ve got to eat some breakfast,” one of the boys was saying to Harry as he neared the cluster of first year Gryffindors.

“I don’t want anything,” Harry grumbled.

“Just a bit of toast,” Hermione wheedled.

“I’m not hungry,” Harry sighed.

“Harry, you need your strength,” Seamus Finnigan said. “Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.”

“Thanks, Seamus,” Harry grumbled.

“At least he’s honest, Potter,” Edward laughed, patting the boy on the shoulder and feeling how tense he was. “Geez, Harry! Relax. You’ll do fine. You were fantastic in practice all week. You’ve got this.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Thanks, Edward.”

Edward gave the boy a cheeky grin.

“Good luck today, Potter,” a low voice said.

Looking up Edward noticed that Snape had approached them as well.

“Then again,” Snape drawled, “now that you’ve proven yourself against a troll a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you. Even if it is against Slytherin.”

“Why, Professor Snape,” Edward smirked. “Was that an attempt to cheer Potter up?”

Snape glared at him. “Merely an observation from last week’s debacle.”

“Suuure,” Edward chuckled. “Anyway, Potter, good luck! You’re going to be great. Shall we go, Professor Snape?”

“You are too cheery this morning, Elric,” Snape groused as they walked away from the gawking Gryffindors.

“How’s the leg?” Edward whispered when he noticed that Snape still had a bit of a limp.

“Better,” Snape grunted. “Still hurts every now and again. I need to go take another healing potion.”

“Well why don’t we go do that now and then go get some seats for the match. I’ve been looking forward to this,” Edward said with a grin.

“I forgot,” Snape said, looking at Edward with a mildly amused expression. “This is your first Quidditch game isn’t it?”

“Yup!” Edward nodded.

 

Around eleven o’clock Edward and Snape were seated together in the stands in the teacher’s box. It appeared that the entire school had come out to watch the game. Many spectators – and Edward was no exception – had binoculars and across the field in the opposite stands, Edward spotted the colorful banner that Ron and Hermione had told him about. It said “Potter for President” flashing different colors above the depiction of a lion. Fifteen minutes later both teams flew out onto the field.

“ _ Hello! Welcome to Hogwarts’ first game of the season! Today’s game: Slytherin VS Gryffindor! _ ” a commentator’s voice boomed out around the field.

A minute later all of the players were hovering in a circle above Madam Hooch as she entered the field on foot.

“ _ The players take their positions as Madam Hooch steps out onto the field to begin the game! _ ”

Madam Hooch looked up at the players and her voice rang out as loud as the announcer’s.

“Now I want a nice clean game! From all of you,” she stated.

She kicked open the chest and the Bludgers went flying out followed by a tiny speck of gold.

“ _ The Bludgers are up followed by the Golden Snitch. Remember, the Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty points. The Seeker that catches the Snitch ends the game. _ ”

Madam Hooch picked up the remaining ball – the Quaffle – and tossed it up into the air.

“ _ The Quaffle is released and the game begins! _ ” roared the announcer as the Chasers from both teams launched forward. “ _ And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –” _

_ “JORDAN!” _ Professor McGonagall’s voice chided the announcer.

Edward snickered and Snape shook his head.

“I have no idea what Minerva was thinking allowing Mr. Jordan to commentate on the match,” Snape sighed. “He’s a friend of the Weasley twins.”

“Ah, that certainly explains things,” Edward snickered and tuned back into the game, eyes riveted on the match.

“ _ And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he’s going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle – that’s Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by the Slytherins – that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she’s really flying – dodges a speeding Bludger – the goal posts are ahead – come on, now, Angeline – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORES!” _

Gryffindor cheers filled the air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Edward cheered and clapped. Snape simply clapped, face void of any real reaction. Edward smirked when he noticed Harry doing a loop-de-loop in celebration of the score, barely dodging a Bludger as he did so.

“ _ Slytherin in possession, _ ” announcer Jordan was saying. “ _ Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch? _ ”

Edward stood up, binoculars to his eyes. He watched Pucey drop the Quaffle in distraction as a flash of gold whizzed passed the sixth year boy’s ear and shoulder. Then Harry dived from where he’d been hovering about the field followed by the Slytherin Seeker. Neck and neck the two boys hurtled toward the Snitch. Everyone seemed to be fixed on the two Seekers, even the players who seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch. Harry started to pull away from the other Seeker, putting on an extra spurt of speed when WHAM! Edward flinched as he watched one of the other Slytherin players block Harry. The poor boy spun out, and looked like he was holding onto his broom for dear life.

“FOUL!” screamed the Gryffindors from their section in the stands.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily with the boy who’d blocked Harry and ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor.

“ _ So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –” _

_ “Jordan!” _ McGonagall growled.

“ _ I mean, after that open and revolting foul –” _

_ “Jordan, I’m warning you-!” _

_ “All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor in possession.” _

Edward watched the game as the Gryffindor team attempted to score again, but something caught his eye. High above the stands he noticed that something wasn’t right with Harry. The boy’s broom was zigzagging in the air and looked like it was trying to buck him off.

“Severus,” Edward hissed, gesturing to Harry.

Snape’s lips formed a thin line and then the man began muttering under his breath as he stared up at Harry. If Edward was hearing the man right, he was muttering a counter curse. It would appear that they were the only two who’d noticed what was going on with Harry at the moment as the commentary continued on.

“ _ Slytherin is possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherins score – oh no… _ ”

Edward and Snape weren’t the only ones who’d noticed Harry’s plight now. Many pointed up at Harry and gasped as the broom rolled him over and the boy was only holding on by one hand. Snape’s mutterings got more urgent and Edward started looking around the stands trying to figure out who was messing with Harry’s broom. He happened to look behind him and noticed Quirrell who had his hands clasped together as he were praying for the boy barely holding on above them, but his stare was unblinking and entirely too focused. Edward narrowed his eyes. Snape had been right. 

All of a sudden Edward smelt something burning and looked down to see Snape’s cloak on fire. 

“You’re on fire!” Edward exclaimed stomping out the flames. 

Snape snapped out of his trance and jolted back in alarm. Edward smirked when he noticed that the action pushed the man standing behind them backwards and into Quirrell who ended up falling over. Edward looked back up at Harry and found that the effect was almost instantaneous. Harry’s broom had stopped bucking and the boy had managed to grab on with his other hand and hoist himself up.

Then the boy was off shooting across the field where Edward now noticed the Slytherin Seeker flying after a speck of gold. Looking through his binoculars again, Edward watched Harry pull up alongside the other boy and they knocked back and forth between each other jockeying for position. Then the two fell into a steep dive, getting closer and closer to the ground. The Slytherin Seeker pulled up first, but Harry kept going. Edward’s heart leapt up into his throat as he watched Harry pull out of the steep dive just skimming over the field turf. Those watching him gasped in awe and relief.  Edward watched in amazement as Harry rose to his feet  _ on the bloody broom _ and reached his hand out for the Snitch. Then the boy took a small step and tumbled off his broom. He stood up, clutched his stomach looking as though he was about to be sick, and then he spat something out and caught it in his hands. The object was a tiny little golden-!

“ _ He’s got the Snitch! _ ” the announcer cried. “ _ Harry Potter receives one hundred and fifty points for catching the snitch! _ ”

“YES!” Edward crowed, pumping his fist into the air as Madam Hooch’s whistle screeched above the roar of the crowd.

“Gryffindor wins!” she announced, and the stands went nuts.

After the game, Edward left the field and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid on a trip to Hagrid’s hut for a celebratory cup of tea. The thrill of the game was short lived however when Hermione and Ron started telling Harry that it was  _ Snape _ that had been jinxing his broom. He even found out that it was Hermione who’d set Snape’s cloak on fire. Edward wanted to speak up and correct their misunderstanding, but Hagrid beat him to it.

“Nonsense,” the big man huffed. “Why would Snape put a curse on Harry’s broomstick?” 

“Who knows?” Harry shrugged. “Why was he trying to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween?”

“Who told you about Fluffy?” Hagrid asked, eyes narrowed.

“Fluffy?” Edward and Ron cried out incredulously. 

“That  _ thing _ has a name?” Hermione said, equally incredulous.

“Of course he’s got a name,” Hagrid scoffed. “He’s mine. I bought ‘im off an Irish feller I met down in the pub last year. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-!”

“Yes?” Harry said eagerly.

Edward growled and elbowed the big man hard.

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Hagrid winced. “No more questions. Don’t ask any more questions. That’s top secret that is.”

“But Hagrid,” Harry sighed. “Whatever Fluffy’s guarding, Snape is trying to steal it.”

“Codswallop,” Hagrid said, stopping in his tracks and rounded on the three students. “Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher.”

“Hogwarts teacher or not, I know a spell when I see one,” Hermione interjected. “I’ve read all about them. You’ve got to keep eye contact and Snape wasn’t blinking.”

“Exactly,” Harry said.

Hagrid sighed and Edward muttered under his breath trying to decide whether to defend his collogue or not.

“Now you listen to me – all three of ya,” Hagrid stated in a very serious tone. “You’re meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. It’s dangerous. What that dog is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nickolas Flamel.”

“Nickolas Flamel?” Harry repeated.

Edward could have kicked Hagrid as he watched Harry, Ron and Hermione trade thoughtful glances.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Hagrid gasped. “I should  _ not _ have said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Edward growled as he watched Hagrid hurry away towards his hut, leaving them behind.

“He really should not have said that,” Edward hissed. “Honestly.”

“Nickolas Flamel,” Harry mused. “Who’s Nickolas Flamel?”

“Don’t know,” Hermione sighed shaking her head when the two boys looked to her. Then she turned to Edward. “But you know something, don’t you, Edward?”

“I might,” Edward frowned, glaring after Hagrid’s back. “And no, I won’t tell you. Hagrid wasn’t lying when he said that it was top secret and dangerous and you three are wrong about Snape. He’s a good man. A terrible grump most of the time and hard to get along with I’ll admit, but still a good man. He wasn’t the one jinxing your broom Harry. He didn’t notice what was going on until I pointed it out. What he was muttering wasn’t a jinx. It was a counter curse.”

“Snape was trying to  _ save _ me?” Harry asked skeptically.

“I stood next to him the entire match,” Edward told them.

“Well… even if he was,” Ron piped up, “That doesn’t explain the bite he got from Fluffy.”

“I can’t tell you about that,” Edward growled. “I suggest you three just drop the matter and leave it up to me and the other teachers. Now come on. We can have tea back in my office.”

But of course those three didn’t let the matter drop. 

 

As November came to a close and December came upon them, Edward had started to keep a closer eye on Quirrell. After that stunt at the Quidditch match Edward and Snape had begun meeting more often to discuss how they were going to deal with the man. Snape was sticking close to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher while Edward was keeping an even closer eye on Harry. It was obvious that the boy would need protection if Quirrell should try to kill the boy again. He didn’t like that Harry and his friends were going to try to find out more about Flamel, but when Edward thought about it, he knew that if he were in their shoes he’d be doing the exact same thing.

As the winter break drew closer Edward learned that Harry and Ron and the other Weasley boys would be staying for the break. It appeared that the Weasley parents were spending the holidays visiting their son Charlie in Romania.  Snape grumbled about having to deal with those trouble-making twins during the break, but that only made Edward laugh, wondering what those boys would do during the holiday.

A couple days before the break started Edward found himself helping Hagrid lug trees over to the Great Hall. They were just handling the last one when Ron and Harry came upon them.

“Hi, Hagrid, Professor Elric, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches to see them.

“Nah, we’re all right, thanks, Ron.” Hagrid grunted.

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” the Malfoy boy’s cold drawl came from somewhere behind Ron and Harry. Edward couldn’t see the boy from his position behind the tree next to Hagrid, and if the boy’s next words were any indication, the boy hadn’t seen him yet either. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”

Hearing the boy speak Edward stepped out from behind the tree just in time to restrain Ron. Malfoy paled.

“Now Mr. Weasley calm down, otherwise I’ll be forced to take points from your House for fighting.” Edward frowned, acting every bit the proper and stern teacher. “However, Mr. Malfoy, I find your words to be incredibly low handed, improper, and rude. I’ll be taking five points from Slytherin for your verbal slight against Mr. Weasley. I would have expected better from someone of your family’s  _ higher status _ in society. But it appears that such an upbringing was lost on you since it would seem that your parents forgot to teach you proper manners.”

Malfoy looked livid.

“And who are you to speak down to me?” the boy cried. “You’re not a teacher! You’re only a  _ student _ teacher you insolent imposter! You can’t take points away from Houses! Only full time teachers can. You’re not that much older than us and in a few years I’ll be taller than you, you, you-!”

“It would be wise of you not to finish that sentence,” Edward said darkly, holding back both Harry and Ron – or maybe it was the other way around now.

“Midget!” Malfoy sneered.

Edward saw red and a torrid of words and expletives wanted to rush out of his mouth, but Edward had to be the adult here. He was a teacher – a  _ student teacher _ granted, but still a teacher damn it all.

“Surely that isn’t the best you can do to insult me,” Edward said in a low voice, but the anger was almost palpable and Malfoy paled even more, shrinking back to stand beside his friend.

“And what is going on here?”

Everyone turned to see Snape coming up the stairs looking between Edward, Harry and Ron to Malfoy and his friend.

“I believe that I have just been insulted by Mr. Malfoy here,” Edward growled. “Not very creatively I might add. And I thought those placed in Slytherin were supposed to be clever.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Malfoy has also insulted Mr. Weasley,” Edward continued, calming down from his anger a little bit, “and got fresh with me when I informed him that was going to take five points from his House.  Now I’d like to make it ten. I was thinking fifty but that seemed a little harsh.”

Snape nodded.

“Then ten points will be taken for insulting a peer and a teacher,” Snape said blandly.

“But Professor!” Malfoy exclaimed. “He’s only a  _ student _ teacher. He has no right to take away House Points!”

“Actually he does,” Snape said calmly. “Because he is still in fact a  _ teacher _ .”

Edward smiled, schooling his features into a calmer mask.

“If you’ll excuse us, Hagrid and I have to get this last tree into the Great Hall,” Edward sighed, getting back behind the tree.

“Certainly.” Snape nodded and gestured for Malfoy and his friend to run along.

“Yer certainly friendly with Professor Snape,” Hagrid commented. “He wouldn’t have agreed with ya otherwise.”

“We get along alright,” Edward huffed as they managed to finally get the blasted tree outside the doors to the Great Hall.

“Edward?”

Edward looked to the side and saw that Harry and Ron were still there.

“Yes, Ron?” Edward sighed.

“Thanks for stopping me back there.” Ron smiled sheepishly. “Snape would have taken off points if you hadn’t.”

“No problem.” Edward smiled wearily back.

“I hate them both,” Harry said. “Malfoy and Snape.”

“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” Hagrid said. “Tell yeh what, come with us an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”

Then they entered the huge double doors and saw how spectacular the Great Hall looked. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were still busy with the Christmas decorations. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. Hagrid and Edward were hauling in the thirteenth and final tree.

“Ah, Hagrid, Edward, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?” Flitwick called out to them.

“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked Ron and Harry, while Edward secured the tree in its place.

“Just one,” Hermione said as she entered the hall and came to stand beside her friends. “And that reminds me – Harry, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Ron said, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

“The library?” Edward frowned.

“Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?” Hagrid blinked in bewilderment.

“Oh, we’re not working,” Harry told them brightly. “Ever since you mentioned Nickolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.”

“You what?” Hagrid gasped, shocked. “Listen here – I’ve told yeh – drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.”

“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” Hermione said innocently. Edward wasn’t buying it for a minute. 

“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I’ve read his name somewhere.”

“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” Hagrid said flatly.

“And neither am I,” Edward scowled.

“Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” Ron said with a shrug and off the trio went.

Edward and a very disgruntled Hagrid watched them leave.

“You and your big mouth,” Edward grunted.

“I said I was sorry,” Hagrid sighed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Edward shrugged before heading to his office.

On his way there though he ran into Snape again.

“So what was it that Malfoy said that made you so angry, Edward?” Snape asked as they entered Edward’s office. 

Edward grumbled, glaring at his desk as he walked around to sit in his chair. His portrait of Al giggled in his frame.

“ _ Brother doesn’t like others making fun of his height _ ,” the portrait answered. 

“THE BRAT CALLED ME A MIDGET!” Edward roared, rising to his feet again, his tirade from earlier coming back full force. “THAT RUDDY BLEACH BLOND PIPSQUEEK! THAT INSOLENT SNOB WHO THINKS HE’S BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE! I’M A TEACHER DAMN IT! LITTLE BASTARD NEEDS TO LEARN HOW TO SHOW SOME RESPECT!”

Snape watched Edward rant, vomiting obscenities around his office for the next five minutes with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow. When he was finally done, Edward plopped into his desk chair again panting.

“Are you quite finished?” Snape drawled.

“…Yeah,” Edward sighed. “Sorry about that, but I had to let it out since I couldn’t just blow up at the brat.”

Snape nodded but still looked entirely too amused by Edward’s episode. Edward coughed into his hand and they moved on to discuss the newest developments concerning Quirrell and Harry. Quirrell was lying low at the moment, so there was nothing new there, and even when Edward told Snape about Harry, the Potions Master didn’t appear to be too concerned about the fact that Harry and his friends were researching Nickolas Flamel.

“If they want to read about the man they’d have to read your class’s textbook, and even if they were to find Flamel in some other book I doubt that they’d learn anything of use,” Snape had said.

Edward grudgingly agreed, not having thought about the few Alchemy texts the school had. Flamel was mentioned in almost all of them alongside Hohenheim. Most of those texts were in the restricted section though so Edward supposed that he shouldn’t worry. It wasn’t as if the trio knew that Flamel was only famous in Alchemy circles. If they did find anything on Flamel it’d be on pure luck alone.

The next day before break began Edward made sure to give Hermione her Christmas present before she left. It was a book on Alchemy (one without mention of Nickolas Flamel) that he thought she might enjoy since she’d shown interest in the subject whenever they had one of their chats before his classes. He kept Harry and Ron’s gifts (a Quidditch guide and fan book, and a Cuddly Cannon’s jersey respectively) and planed to have an elf deliver them on Christmas.

When break actually started Edward finally had the time to start research on finding a possible way back home.  He wasn’t sure where to start, but he found himself holing up in the library like he had when he’d been trying to study up and pass the ministry’s evaluations. Occasionally Ron and Harry would find him and drag him up to the nearly empty Gryffindor Common Room where he’d play wizard chess with Ron and watch and sometimes help the redhead teach Harry the game.

On Christmas Eve, Edward spent the day with the teachers playing more wizard chess with McGonagall, chatting with Sprout and Flitwick, and doing his best to cheer Snape up a bit, but he figured that he was actually annoying the man more than he was actually brightening the mood. This was probably because Snape was trying to keep a hawk’s eye on Quirrell. Edward wasn’t sure what the man had done this time to warrant Snape’s ire and suspicion, but in light of the holidays Edward didn’t bother asking. 

Hagrid came into the castle and the entire staff spent the evening chatting and exchanging gifts. Edward got a charmed 6-inch miniature Al suit of armor from Dumbledore that would run around on his desk and fetch whatever he asked. Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall had teamed up and gotten him an assortment of German chocolates and snacks (both muggle and wizard) to give him a touch of home (his fabricated background story did say that he was from Germany after all). He was surprised that Snape had gotten him something as well; half a dozen pairs of gloves in an assortment of neutral colors and types of fabrics, and a new pair of sturdy boots since his old black ones were starting to get a little worn and small. It would figure that Snape would give him something practical, but Edward liked the gift all the same.

On Christmas Day Edward allowed himself to sleep in before coming down for lunch. His stomach let out a delighted growl when Edward eyed the feast. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. The strange party favor things were scattered along the table. He figured it was a British thing. 

He was reluctant to open one though when he saw Harry pull one with one of the Weasley twins. The thing had banged like a cannon and engulfed the whole end of the table in a cloud of blue smoke. Snape got him to open one though after insinuating that he was a coward for not trying. To Edward’s surprise when he set one off it spit out red, green and gold sparks like a sparkler and from the inside exploded a flowered bonnet that made Snape smirk and McGonagall chuckle. That was until Dumbledore offered to trade the silly thing for his pointed wizard’s hat. Edward was quick to do so, and earned himself sniggers and giggles and laughs from his fellow staff members. 

Flitwick started telling jokes and was joined by Hagrid whose face was getting redder and redder with every glass of wine he drank. Edward nearly fell out of his chair with laughter when the giant man kissed McGonagall on the cheek. Then he did fall out of it when McGonagall blushed and giggled as her hat tipped lopsidedly on her head.

After the meal, Edward decided to join Harry, Ron and the rest of the Weasleys for an afternoon out on the grounds participating in a furious snowball fight. Later when they were cold, wet, and gasping for breath they retired to the Gryffindor common room where Edward watched Harry break in a new chess set he’d apparently gotten in one of the strange party favors. He even stuck around to have a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake while the Weasley twins provided the entertainment for the evening. Their angry older brother Percy chased them around because they’d stolen his Prefect’s badge.  It had been a while since Edward had laughed so much. Then he got in on the chase when they’d called him short. Needless to say the twins found his reaction hilarious, but when Edward transmuted the wall and pinned them to it with various pointed spikes aimed at them and grinned madly they agreed not to do it again… for a while at least.

After that Edward trudged down to the dungeons looking forward to a nice long sleep, but just before he could enter his chambers, Snape intercepted him and roped him into night patrol. Edward groaned and protested, but Snape wasn’t having any of it, having already volunteered him for the duty. Edward sulked, grumbling the whole while until he spotted Quirrell down the corridor outside the library. Snape saw him too and was on the man quicker than a bloodhound was on a fresh scent. He gripped the neck of Quirrell's purple robes and pinned him to a nearby pillar. The show of violence surprised Edward. Snape was usually much more collected than that. Quirrell must have really been getting to the Potions Master.

“And what are you doing up at this hour Quirrell?” Snape sneered. “I was told that Elric and I had patrol tonight.”

“Severus I-I… I-I,” the man stuttered.

“You don’t want me as your enemy Quirrell,” Snape sneered.

Edward watched nervously a few steps back. Snape seemed to be really angry as he stared down the stuttering gibbering mess of a man. 

“W-What do y-you mean?” squeaked Quirrell.

“You know perfectly well what I mean,” Snape said lowly.

Then Snape paused and looked over his shoulder. Edward looked in the same direction but saw nothing. Snape slowly stretched out an arm and grabbed at thin air. He opened his palm and saw that he’d caught nothing. Then he whirled around and faced Quirrell again with a stern expression that clearly said “no more funny business.”

“You and I’ll have another chat soon when you’ve had time to decide where your loyalties lie,” Snape sneered.

Edward then spotted Filch racing towards them with two lanterns; one lit and one extinguished. 

“Oh,” the grizzled caretaker blinked in surprise when he came upon them. “Professors. I found this,” he lifted up and showed them the extinguished lantern, “in the restricted section. It’s still hot. That means that a student’s out of bed.”

The caretaker looked rather gleeful at this fact. Edward traded a look with Snape. 

“The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be far, we’ll catch them,” Snape said before all four of them rushed off to find the wayward student.

Edward huffed in frustration when hours later no student had been found wandering the halls and none of the ghosts or portraits had seen anyone either. But even so, Edward had an idea who it was that had been out of bed. It could only have been Harry and/or Ron. He didn’t find out for sure who it was though until two nights later when Dumbledore grabbed him after a late dinner and asked him for his help with something. Next thing Edward knew he was standing in an unused classroom where the desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket. Then Edward noticed what looked like a mirror propped up against the far wall with an inscription carved around the top that read:  _ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _ .

“So what did you need my help with?” Edward asked.

“You’ll see,” Dumbledore hummed as he sat down on one of the desks against the wall. Edward sighed and took a seat as well next to the man.

Edward was starting to get irritated after two hours had passed, but just as Edward was about to demand what the hell they were supposed to be doing, the classroom door flew open seemingly on it’s own. Edward could hear someone’s footsteps though and he puzzled over the fact because ghosts don’t usually make such noise while invisible. But suddenly Harry Potter was standing in front of the mirror shedding a large silvery looking cloak before sitting down. Edward raised an eyebrow and looked at Dumbledore curiously, waiting to see what the headmaster would do since Harry was obviously out of bed after hours.

“Back again, Harry?” Dumbledore mused.

The boy jumped and twisted around to stare at Dumbledore and Edward in shock. 

“I-I didn’t see you, sir… sirs,” Harry stammered.

“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you.” Dumbledore smiled as he slipped off the desk and came to sit beside Harry. Edward rose too and tentatively stood hovering around Harry’s shoulder.

“I see that you like so many before you have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. I trust by now you realize what it does.” Harry shook his head. “…Let me give you a clue. The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself exactly as he is.”

“So then it shows us what we want. Whatever we want,” Harry mused out.

Edward frowned and looked into the mirror, but all he saw was himself, Harry and Dumbledore. What on Earth were they talking about?

“Yes and no,” Dumbledore said. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them.”

“How did you know what it showed Ron?” Harry blinked bewildered.

“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” Dumbledore said mysteriously before his expression became serious. “However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth.  Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. That is why the mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?”

Harry nodded and stood up.

“Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something? Both of you?”

“Obviously, you’ve just done so.” Dumbledore smiled. “You may ask me one more thing, however.”

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

Edward looked at the Professor curiously.

“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks,” Dumbledore said serenely. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

Harry stared and Edward snorted.

“Well, Professor Elric, why don’t you have a turn and step in front of the mirror yourself?” Dumbledore smiled. “That way you can answer young Harry’s question and he can be off to bed.”

Edward eyed the mirror uneasily for a moment before stepping in front of it where Harry had been sitting. Once he was in position, air got caught in his lungs and his eyes stung with tears. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his home world until now. In the mirror standing beside him on his right was Alphonse beaming at him, looking like he did in the portrait hanging in Edward’s office. Winry was on his left in her usual attire with smudges of oil and grease on her arms and face. Behind her was Izumi Curtis and her husband Sig. Behind Al was Colonel Roy Mustang, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, and subordinates Breda, Falman, Havoc, and Fury. Behind Edward himself was the towering figure of Major Alex Louis Armstrong flanked by Brosh, Maria Ross and Sheska. All of them were smiling warmly at him – smirking in Izumi and Roy’s cases. Even as Edward’s eyes roamed over all of their faces, he always came back to Winry and Al. Even though he knew that it was only an illusion, he reached his hand out and touched the glass over where his brother was standing.

“What do you see, Professor?” Harry asked tentatively.

Edward jerked back from the mirror and made himself step away. He could understand now why Harry had kept sneaking out to come back to this room. If he could see his own friends and brother in this mirror that he missed so much, he could only imagine what it could mean for Harry to see the family he never got to know. 

“...Are you alright, Professor?” Harry asked.

Edward stared at him in confusion before he realized that he was crying. Uttering a string of curses under his breath Edward scrubbed his eyes dry.

“Fine,” he grumbled finally.

“You saw your brother,” Dumbledore stated, no question.

“Yeah… A lot of my old friends too,” Edward sighed. “I even saw that bastard Mustang and my Alchemy teacher. …I didn’t realize how much I missed them. All of them.”

Dumbledore nodding understandingly before he sent Harry off back to bed. Even though the headmaster didn’t say anything more and let him have his space for ten minutes, Edward didn’t dare stand in front of that mirror again. He wouldn’t go near it until Dumbledore had him carry the cursed thing out of the classroom to the third floor corridor, and down into the series of task rooms where the Philosopher’s Stone was going to be kept. Apparently the mirror was going to be the stone’s last line of defense. Edward didn’t bother asking Dumbledore what he meant by that. He just wanted to get away from the blasted thing. For the rest of the holiday break Edward resolutely shut himself away in either his rooms or the library, more determined than ever to find a way back home so that he could see his brother and friends for real instead of in illusions.


	5. Secrets, Plots and Dragons

Once term had started back up again Edward found that he had to set his research for a way home aside once more. Much to his chagrin, Edward found himself swamped with work for his and Quirrell’s classes and spent nearly all his free time in the evenings at Gryffindor Quidditch practices. Wood was working the team harder than ever even in rainy weather. Edward and most of the team were quickly losing their patience with the ambitious team captain.

Edward’s temper became even shorter after he’d gone to Rolanda Hooch at the beginning of the new term to ask her if he could stop supervising the practice sessions. No other team was required to have a teacher supervise their practices and now that Harry had been playing for a few months, Edward felt that his presence was no longer required. Hooch did not feel the same way however, the sadistic bitch. Edward was sure that the woman was secretly encouraging Wood to schedule more practices just to spite him.

So busy was he, Edward had nearly forgotten about the ever-growing problem concerning his job in keeping an eye on Harry Potter and his friends and making sure that they stayed out the trouble surrounding the Philosopher’s Stone. Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of news that they did not take well. The team captain had just gotten very angry with the Weasley twins, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

“Will you stop messing around!” Wood yelled. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that’ll lose us the match! Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!”

Edward looked up from where he’d been sulking huddled in a large rain poncho. He hadn’t heard about this before now. George Weasley really did fall off his broom this time upon hearing those words.

“ _Snape’s_ refereeing?” he spluttered through a mouthful of mud.

Edward would have snickered at the redhead’s face if the entire team hadn’t looked so miserable and equally horrified at the news.

“When’s he ever refereed a Quidditch match?” George continued. “He’s not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin in points.”

The rest of the team had now landed next to George and were starting to complain too.

“It’s not _my_ fault,” said Wood. “We’ve just got to make sure we can play a clean game, so Snape hasn’t got an excuse to pick on us.”

Edward noticed how wary Harry now looked. It was clear that he didn’t want Snape refereeing the match more than everyone else. Then again, the boy was under the impression that Snape had tried to kill him during that first match against Slytherin.

While the rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, Harry went over to join Edward as he started heading back up to the castle.

“Why is Snape refereeing the next game?” Harry demanded the moment he caught up with Edward.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Edward sighed. “This is the first time I’ve heard about it.”

“But you’re a friend of his,” Harry scowled.

“Friends? Maybe,” Edward snorted. “If you can call it that. He doesn’t tell me everything, Harry. He only tells me what he wants to. I assure you that I had no idea that he would be refereeing your next game. Although, now that I think about it, Madam Hooch has been feeling a bit under the weather lately. Can’t say I blame her with all this bloody rain!”

“Why can’t you referee then?” Harry pleaded.

“Well for one, I wasn’t asked. And two, I’ve been busy supervising your practice sessions. If I were to referee it would look like I’m favoring you and your team – which I do favor. Snape doesn’t have such complications since his house team isn’t playing. Also, you couldn’t pay me to get on one of those blasted brooms to referee,” Edward shuddered. “Prodigy I may be when it comes to spells and potions and other such things, but a flyer I am not, Harry. I can ride a broom all right, but at times the muggle part of me simply cannot get around the fact and accept that a flimsy cleaning tool can fly, let alone carry someone.  I really don’t know what you’re so bothered by Harry. Snape may be a mean bugger but he’s not out to kill you, and even if he was, I _will_ be there at the game keeping an eye on things.”

Harry did not look convinced, but at the moment Edward just didn’t care. It was late, he was wet and hungry, and all he wanted now was a nice hot shower, dry clothes, and a whole feast worth of food and drink. He left Harry in the castle’s entryway to head up to Gryffindor Tower while he headed to the Staff’s bathroom for that shower. The house elves were used to this sort of thing by now and had already set out a clean set of clothes and had taken away the wet ones for Edward by the time he was finished. Edward sighed with contentment as he headed down to his office for a cup of tea before going to the Great Hall for dinner. He had just sat down behind his desk in his office with a fresh cup of earl grey when the door burst open to allow Harry, Ron and Hermione to tumble in.

“Harry, I told you,” Edward sighed, setting his tea down. “I can’t ref-!”

“We know about Nickolas Flamel!” they cried, standing before his desk.

Edward froze and stared long and hard at them for a moment before shutting the door again and locked it with a wave of his wand and cast a silencing charm about the room just in case.

“What now?” he asked in a low serious voice.

None of them answered him. Instead, Harry slapped down a Wizard’s chocolate frog trading card onto his desk. Dumbledore’s card. Edward frowned and picked it up to examine it.

“A trading card?” he asked skeptically.

“Read the back,” Harry pressed.

Edward did.

“Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his…” Edward trailed off, not quite able to believe what he was seeing.

“…And his work on _alchemy_ with his partner, Nicolas Flamel,” Hermione finished for him looking far too smug for his liking.

“…So?” Edward asked, keeping his face blank of emotion while on the inside he was raging with anger. A trading card… A fucking trading card of all things is what gives it all away.

“That’s not all we found though,” Hermione grinned. “Once we found out that Flamel was linked with Alchemy, I asked one of your students to lend me their Alchemy textbook – I’m not saying who though. I didn’t find much about Flamel in it other than the fact that he was considered the world’s foremost expert on modern alchemy before he started working with Dumbledore and Dr. Van Licht. But then I remembered a book that I’d checked out weeks ago for a bit of light reading,” she said as she pulled out a huge text and set it down on Edward’s desk with a heavy _thump_!

Ron snorted at what Hermione considered light reading, but Edward only frowned.

“This is a text I found because I had already finished going over your class’ textbook, Edward, and I wanted to know more about Alchemy,” Hermione informed him. “It’s utter rubbish compared to Dr. Licht’s work, but it did have the one thing we were looking for.”

Edward ground his teeth in frustration as he watched her flip through the large text to a specific page.

“It says here that Nickolas Flamel is the _only known maker_ of the _Philosopher’s Stone_!” she breathed excitedly. “The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nickolas Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year.”

“It’s no wonder we couldn’t find Flamel in the _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_ ,” Ron mused. “He’s not exactly recent if he’s six hundred and sixty-five, is he?”

“No, he isn’t,” Edward shook his head, gathering his thoughts and holding back his frustration.

“Fluffy is guarding Flamel’s Philosopher’s Stone isn’t he, Edward?” Harry asked. “We think Flamel asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they’re friends and he knew someone was after it. That’s why he wanted the stone moved out of Gringotts! It’s a stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying! It’s no wonder Snape’s after it! _Anyone_ would want it.”

“Well, when it is presented like that, no,” Edward scowled. “But any Alchemist worth their salt can transmute anything into gold, and as for never dying… No one in their right mind would want that stone.”

“So we’re right?” Ron grinned.

Edward glared and leaned over his desk so that he was nearly in their faces.

“Now you three listen to me,” he said in a low voice, just barely holding back his anger. “You are to leave this alone. The Philosopher’s Stone is a dangerous artifact. It will only bring about trouble and isn’t worth risking your lives over.”

“But Ed-!” Harry tried to protest, but Edward wasn’t having it.

“But _nothing,_ Potter,” Edward growled. “There is a reason why it’s the only stone of it’s kind left and why no one else has made another. Hundreds of lives have been ruined and thousands more have been lost over that stone, and I won’t have you three adding yours to the tally. I’d focus more on your studies and on that Quidditch game of yours, Harry. Leave the protection of that stone to me, Professor Dumbledore, and the rest of the Hogwarts staff. It is not your problem, nor your burden to bare.”

“But-!”

“Harry! Please,” Edward practically begged, gripping the boy by his shoulders. “ _Please_ , for your own sakes let this go.”

Harry looked like he wanted to protest, but Edward shook him a little.

“Please, Harry! All three of you please listen! Those who get themselves involved in anything concerning the Philosopher’s Stone never meet a happy end,” Edward pleaded. “ _Don’t_ get involved any further than you already are. I… I couldn’t bare it if I lost any more friends because of this _thing_. It’s evil and nothing good will come of it.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at him for a moment as Edward let Harry go and went over to stand in front of his brother’s portrait.

“ _Brother_ …” Al murmured looking sadly down at Edward.

“…All right, Edward,” Hermione said softly. “We won’t look into it anymore.”

Edward looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Yeah… We promise, Edward,” Ron nodded after a nudge from Hermione.

Edward nodded and looked at Harry, waiting for his answer.

“…Promise,” Harry agreed with a sigh. “But you have to keep an eye on Snape.”

Edward held back a snort.

“You have my word,” Edward said. “Now enough talk about this. Let's head up for dinner. I’m starved and I’m sure we can all do with a nice meal.”

The three children nodded their heads and together they left for the Great Hall.

 

Later that evening Edward sat in his office again only this time he was in the company of Severus Snape.

“So they know about the Stone?” Snape scowled.

“All because of a fucking trading card!” Edward snapped, throwing the card over to the Potion’s Master with a sharp flick of his wrist. “ _Dumbledore’s_ Chocolate Frog trading card!”

“Language, Edward,” Snape scolded mildly as he glared at the damning back of the card.

“We’re alone,” Edward huffed. “I even put a silencing charm on the door!”

Snape only quirked an eyebrow at that.

“They think you’re the one trying to steal the stone,” Edward grumbled.

“Oh?” Snape inquired, looking amused for the first time during the conversation. “And what did you say to that?”

“Nothing,” Edward grumbled.

“You didn’t even _try_ to set the record straight?” Snape scoffed.

“No,” Edward smirked a little. “They’re stubborn and nothing I’ve said before in the past could sway them so I thought the effort moot.”

“I suppose it could only work to our advantage,” Snape mused. “It they think I’m the one after the stone then they’ll try to stick close to me.”

“And not go after Quirrell.” Edward nodded in agreement. “I thought so as well.”

“You’re getting awfully close to those three.” Snape frowned.

“They’re not that hard to like.” Edward smiled. “Unless, of course, you have a beef with one of their parents apparently.”

Snape glared, but Edward only smiled back and reclined in his seat. His expression mellowed quickly though. “We’ll have to keep a closer eye on them from now on.”

“You work on that,” Snape stated. “They trust you and are more likely to confide in you than in anyone else. I’ll do as I have been and keep an eye, Quirrell.”

“Don’t push him,” Edward warned. “That man has been getting quite jittery lately.”

“Which is why I had Dumbledore convince Rolanda Hooch to let me referee tomorrow’s match,” Snape stated. “I won’t risk letting that man go after Potter again.”

“You’re a hard man to figure out, Severus,” Edward sighed. “You despise the boy more than any other, and yet you go to great lengths to ensure his safety. Sure, you’d rather have him be miserable, but only so long as he’s safely miserable.”

Snape glared at him before letting out a sigh of his own.

“…He has Lilly’s eyes, Edward.”

It was all he said and acted as if that was all that needed to be said about the matter. As if it that simple statement explained everything… And it did. Edward didn’t press Snape further, choosing instead to take a sip out of his cup of tea and stared at the portrait of his brother.

 

The next day after all morning classes, Edward headed out with the rest of the school to the Quidditch pitch for Gryffindor’s game against Hufflepuff. On his way over to the field though, Edward witnessed Snape with Quirrell in a shadowed corner having a heated discussion – on Snape’s part anyway. Quirrell cowered, nodding furiously before taking off. Snape glared after the man before storming over to the Quidditch pitch himself. Edward considered going after Snape to have a word with the man, but thought better of it when he spied Ron and Hermione outside the Gryffindor team’s locker room saying goodbye to Harry. Edward noticed that both first years had their wands on them as they headed up to the stands. Foregoing the Staff Box, Edward moved to join the two Gryffindors in the main stands.

“Now, don’t forget, it’s _Locomotor Mortis_ ,” Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

“I _know_ ,” Ron snapped. “Don’t nag.”

“Now why would he need to remember the Leg-Locker Curse?” Edward mused aloud as he came up behind the two.

Both of them jumped and turned to look sheepishly at him as he came to claim a seat next to Hermione.

“Ah… We… uh…” Hermione stammered.

“Look! Dumbledore’s here!” Ron cried.

“Really?!” Hermione squeaked, looking up at the Staff Box and, sure enough, Dumbledore was sitting in the front row next to the announcer’s stand beside McGonagall.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Edward mused with a wry smile. “I asked him to come.”

Ron and Hermione stared at him in surprise.

“I thought it would help you and Harry feel a lot better about the game if he attended. No one would dare try anything if he were here to watch the game.” Edward smirked.

The two beamed at him before turning their attention to the game.

“Whoa,” Ron gaped when Snape stormed out onto the field. Edward winced, wondering what Quirrell could have possible done this time to piss Snape off so badly.

“I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” Ron told Hermione. “Look – they’re off. Ouch!”

Edward looked around behind Hermione and spotted Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. From the looks of things, Malfoy had poked Ron in the back of the head.

“Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there,” Malfoy drawled before grinning broadly at his friends. “Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?”

Ron didn’t answer. Both he and Hermione were focused entirely on the game. Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

“You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for seemingly no reason at all. “It’s people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasley’s who’ve got no money – you should be on the team, Longbottom, you’ve got no brains.”

Neville – who was seated next to Ron – went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

“I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” he stammered.

Edward blinked at the shy boy in surprise while Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, “You tell him, Neville.”

“Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”

Edward was about to rise out of his seat and make his presence known when Ron growled, “I’m warning you, Malfoy – one more word-!”

“Ron!” Hermione said suddenly, “Harry-!”

“What? Where?”

Both Ron and Edward returned their attention to the game as Harry suddenly went into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

“You’re in luck, Weasley. Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Edward could stop him, and before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of the blond brat, wrestling him to the ground. Neville had hesitated at first, but was beginning to scramble over his seat to help. Edward did manage to stop him in time though, shoving him back into his seat as he maneuvered around Hermione’s.

“Come on, Harry!” Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape – not even noticing Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat.

“All right, enough!” Edward snarled, clapping his hands together and transmuted the row of seats, having them pull Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Ron apart and restrained them to the newly formed seats, but not before Ron got one final punch in that looked like it might leave Malfoy with a black eye.

Edward turned around just in time to see Harry shoot past Snape, missing him by inches. A second later Harry pulled out of his dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record. The game had barely lasted five minutes!

“Ron! Edward! The game is over! Harry’s won! We’ve won! Gryffindor is in the lead!” shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat before turning around to hug Edward.

“Yes, yes, so he has,” Edward grinned before turning on the four restrained students in their seats. He clapped his hands and transmuted the seating section back to its original state, setting its captives free. Malfoy glared, rubbing his wrists.

“Alright, off with you,” Edward shooed the Slytherins. “In light of the circumstances I’ll let you brats off with only a warning.”

Malfoy scowled, turning away to storm off but before he could get too far, Edward couldn’t resist one last parting shot.

“And Mr. Malfoy? You might want to put some ice on that eye of yours.”

The blond grumbled something before stomping out of the stands and skulked back to the castle. Ron smiled sheepishly at Edward, only to beam when Edward told him, “Nice punch. He’ll be wearing that shiner for a while. Now let’s go congratulate Harry.”

 

Edward was relaxing in his office that night, thumbing through his Alchemy class’s textbook so that he could be better prepared for his next lesson when Snape stormed in through the door with the same foul mood he’d been in all day.

“By all means, please don’t hesitate to come in,” Edward sighed, feeling slightly irritated. Snape was really getting on his nerves with his ever-oppressive dark mood. “Let me guess… Quirrell again?”

Snape only scowled as he sank into his usual chair by the fireplace.

“What’s he done this time? I’ve never seen you in such a bad mood,” Edward asked, shutting his book and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Nothing,” Snape growled. “Yet.”

“Perhaps you’re scaring him off,” Edward chuckled. “You’re scaring quite a few people these days. Except Potter that is. He nearly ran into you when he went into that dive. Your face was priceless by the way when he zoomed past you.”

“Apparently you don’t fear me either,” Snape snapped.

“I’m just used to interacting with people like you,” Edward grinned. “I think you and my Alchemy teacher would get along great. You both like to torment your students.”

Snape scowled, but at least he wasn’t glaring and that was an improvement in Edward’s book.

“So did you manage to finish the discussion you had before the game with Quirrell?” Edward asked.

“You saw that?” Snape frowned.

“Only the end where he took off running like a mouse escaping the jaws of a vicious cat.” Edward smirked.

The corners of Snape’s lips twitched a little at that.

“I met with him in the forbidden forest after the match,” Snape admitted. “I tried to find out if he’d figured out how to get past the Cerberus. He played ignorant and innocent, but I could tell he doesn’t. Not yet at any rate.”

“Well that’s good,” Edward sighed. “It means that it’s still only Dumbledore and Hagrid who know how to get past that brute. Whenever I went down there, I had to let one of them know and they would get there before I did so the dog was always asleep.”

“Indeed,” Snape scowled. “Dumbledore is keeping this very close.”

“The fewer people who know the better,” Edward sighed.

“Perhaps,” Snape allowed with a nod. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying. Hagrid let Flamel’s name slip to Potter after all, and look how far he and his friends have gotten.”

“I’m still pissed about that,” Edward growled. “A damn trading card of all things gives them the right clue.”

Snape looked amused, but remained quite.

“Something is going to happen soon,” he sighed.

“Yeah.” Edward frowned. “I can feel it too, but what can we do?”

“We take things as they come and continue on as we have been,” Snape stated as he rose from his seat. “You keep an eye on Potter, and I’ll keep one on Quirrell. When whatever is coming happens, then we can act.”

 

The next few weeks seemed to fly by. He didn’t see much of Harry, Ron and Hermione, but that was because it would seem that Hermione was making the two boys study like crazy for exams that were ten weeks away. Edward managed to keep an eye on them whenever they were in the library, but then he got a letter from the Ministry. It was informing him that during the last week of classes a Ministry Official was going to be sitting in on his Alchemy classes to evaluate him and see if he was a capable teacher and whether it was wise or not to allow him to continue teaching next year. This made him incredibly nervous, but Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall were being very supportive and helped him manage his class schedule better. Even Snape was showing support in his own gruff and unique way and Dumbledore reviewed his class curriculum to make sure that it was up to Ministry standards.

Edward really started to load homework onto his students then to make sure that they would be well prepared for their finals, but he wasn’t the only one. It appeared that all the other teachers were starting to increase the workload for their classes as well. Of course, more school work for the students meant more work for the teacher when it came to grading it all, so Edward found himself locked away in his office during most of his free time and up late at odd hours whenever he wasn’t patrolling the halls or supervising Quidditch practices.

He tried to remember to check up on Harry every now and again, but nearly every moment he managed to take a break it seemed the poor boy was still studying with Ron and Hermione. Edward managed to help them with their homework every now and again to clarify something for Harry and Ron whenever Hermione got too technical and wordy, but he had so much of his own work to do that this didn’t happen nearly as often as he liked. Even his occasional meetings with Snape had lessened as they were both confined to their offices to handle their own work. Snape’s temper didn’t improve any either, because grading all these class assignments left little time for the Potions Master to shadow Quirrell.

Over the next two weeks however, Edward started to note some strange behavior and goings on. For one thing, Hagrid – who was usually such a great loud presence in the Great Hall during meals – had taken to locking himself in his hut, shutting the blinds. He also was starting to neglect his gamekeeper duties. This had Edward concerned, but Sprout assured him that Hagrid got like this whenever the man found a pet that he wanted to keep before loosing it into the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore had apparently allowed such things to happen before, so Edward let this strangeness go overlooked.

Another strange occurrence was that Harry, Ron and Hermione were starting to act nervous and had taken to whispering even when they were in his presence. Malfoy also looked smug about something, but whatever was going on, Edward just chalked it up to childish mischief and ignored the strange behavior… until Ron showed up in his office one Thursday morning while he was between classes.

“What happened and why aren’t you seeing Madam Pomfrey about this?” Edward demanded the moment Ron sat down and showed him a swollen hand.

He didn’t like the look of it. It was swollen to nearly twice its usual size and the cut that was the obvious cause of the swelling was turning a nasty shade of green. If Edward didn’t know any better he’d say that the cut looked like it was infected with a horrible pathogen of some kind. Ron remained silent however.

“Ron, I can’t help you if I don’t know what this is,” Edward sighed, crouching in front of the redhead.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone,” Ron blurted, looking scared. “Please, Edward.”

“I won’t within reason,” Edward said with a frown. “You have to tell me what caused this first.”

Ron bit his lip and looked away as Edward examined the cut better. It looked like a bite…

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Hagrid’s new pet now, would it?” Edward asked.

Ron’s eyes widened.

“You know about Norbert?”

“Norbert? Where the hell does he come up with these names?” Edward snorted. “But, yeah. Hell, the entire staff knows he’s got some sort of new pet locked away in his hut. But if it bit you, he’d better get rid of it soon. If I find that it’s bitten you again or someone else, I’ll have to report it to Dumbledore.”

“He’s getting rid of it Saturday,” Ron sighed.

“Well that’s good,” Edward nodded, “but I’m afraid that I need to take you up to the infirmary. I’m no good at this sort of thing. Cuts and bruises I can handle, gashes and blows to the head I’m not bad at treating, but this… this is beyond me, Ron.”

“But what am I going to tell Madam Pomfrey?” Ron whimpered.

“…We’ll tell her that you got this while helping me move Quirrell’s creatures around last night and that we’re not sure which one got you,” Edward mused. “It will also explain why you came to me first and not to her right away.”

Ron nodded, looking relieved to have a plausible excuse for the strict healer.

After taking Ron up to the Hospital Wing, Edward had to hurry back down to the dungeons for Quirrell’s last morning class before lunch. After that any worries that he’d had about Ron were quickly put out of his mind as work and classes took up the rest of his time and attention. He did check on Ron before dinner though and was relieved to see that the swelling had already lessened significantly.

 

The next day flew by rather quickly, and Edward had never felt so grateful that Saturday had finally arrived.  He slept in that morning, took a nice long relaxing bath, ate a small breakfast in his office before having a nice lunch with McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick in the Great Hall, and spent his afternoon in his office giving his automail limbs a much needed maintenance check and tune up. When he left to have dinner, he ran into McGonagall again and she asked him if he could go on patrol that evening. Edward agreed easily, feeling like a walk around the castle after spending most of his week in his office.

He spent a couple hours taking a nap before he went on patrol. It started out uneventful as always, with the exception of Peeves playing tennis in the entrance hall. The poltergeist had found it amusing to pester him and make fun of his height ever since his little blow up a few months back. Edward tried to ignore it – since he was used to jabs about his height by now – but tonight Peeves had been particularly vile, so Edward wound up chasing the poltergeist for a few minutes yelling curses at the specter before resuming his patrol. Thankfully they’d been on a floor where no one was supposed to be up and about.

It wasn’t until an hour later when he reached the fourth floor near the entrance to the Astronomy Tower that he heard voices. To his surprise, McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and hair net, came around the corner with Malfoy, holding him by the ear.

“Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you-!”

“You don’t understand, Professor. Harry Potter’s coming – he’s got a dragon!”

“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

“What’s going on?” Edward asked as he approached them.

“Professor Elric!” McGonagall huffed. “I come out of my chambers because Peeves is making a ruckus and I find Mr. Malfoy here sneaking off to the Astronomy Tower with some nonsense story about Potter and a dragon. I’m taking him to my study on the first floor. Would you be so kind as to wake Professor Snape for me and bring him up at once?”

“Of course,” Edward said, trying to hide his glee as he headed down to the dungeons.

Malfoy was in trouble! Oh, Edward was snickering the whole trip to Snape’s quarters. The Potions Master was not pleased to have been woken up, however, so Edward curbed his amusement. It was a quiet walk back up to McGonagall’s study, but when they got there Edward was surprised to see not only Malfoy standing before McGonagall’s desk, but Harry, Hermione, and _Neville_ were there as well. Filch was standing in a corner looked the happiest Edward had ever seen the man. In comparison, McGonagall looked absolutely livid, so much so, that not even the sight of her in her bathrobe and hair net could soften the look.

“I’m disgusted,” she said coldly. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All of you are receiving detention – yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, _nothing_ gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it’s very dangerous – and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“ _Fifty?_ ” Harry gasped.

“Fifty points _each_ ,” McGonagall said, breathing heavily through her nose.

“Professor – please,” Hermione gasped.

Poor Neville looked like he was about to cry.

“You _can’t_ -!” Harry protested.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students,” McGonagall snapped. “Mr. Filch, if you could please escort Mr. Potter, Longbottom, and Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Tower?”

“My pleasure,” Filch smiled hideously before leading the three Gryffindors out of the study.

Malfoy looked after them with a small smirk. A smirk that vanished the moment he met Snape’s gaze.

“And what are you doing up at this hour, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape asked crisply, folding his arms across his chest.

“P-Potter had a dragon, Professor,” Malfoy stammered.

“Rubbish,” McGonagall huffed. “Severus, I believe that Potter fed Malfoy here some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble and Longbottom heard the story and believed it. I caught him out of bed trying to warn Potter that Malfoy here was trying to catch him with the dragon.”

“Is that so?” Snape mused, voice cold and neutral. “And you didn’t come to me or one of the other professors with this story why, Mr. Malfoy?”

“B-because none of you would have believed me,” Malfoy stammered.

“So you took it upon yourself to catch Potter in the act of what was obviously a blatant lie? And then what was your plan? No matter the reason, a student being out of bed after hours is inexcusable except in cases of emergency that require a student to go get a teacher.” Snape glared. “Professor McGonagall, how many points did you take off for Mr. Malfoy’s serious lapse in judgment?”

“Twenty,” McGonagall said crisply.

“Then I will be taking an additional thirty off,” Snape stated. “I hope that next time, Mr. Malfoy, that you will come to me with such problems in the future. Even though the story was an obvious lie, Potter would have been watched and reprimanded had you informed Professor McGonagall or myself of this. There was no reason for this to have gone so far. Now I suggest that you head back to bed. Professors McGonagall, Elric and I need to discuss a suitable detention for you and your classmates.”

Malfoy nodded, looking suitably subdued as he trudged out of the study. Once he was gone, Snape and Edward came to stand in front of McGonagall’s desk.

“So what now?” Edward sighed.

“We need to come up with a suitably severe detention,” Snape mused.

“Even for Longbottom?” Edward frowned.

“Even for Longbottom.” McGonagall nodded. “He was out of bed after hours like the other three. His punishment is to be the same as theirs.”

“I suggest we discuss this at a later time,” Snape sighed. “It is late and we have classes to prepare for. Exams are only a couple weeks away now.”

“Agreed,” Edward and McGonagall said tiredly.

Edward and Snape wished McGonagall good night, and headed back down to the dungeons.

“So… thirty additional points off of McGonagall’s twenty,” Edward mused. “Couldn’t stand to be out done in the reprimanding of students, could you?”

Snape glared at him, but didn’t comment.

“It’s a lot of points,” Edward hummed.

“I merely thought it fair,” Snape stated.

“Fair?” Edward gaped. “Since when do you do fair?”

“Since Malfoy is a student of my house, I felt it responsible that he receive the same punishment as the others,” Snape snapped.

“Oh, you’re just cranky that because of him your beauty sleep was interrupted,” Edward snickered.

Snape glared at him again before storming off to his quarter’s door and slammed it shut behind him.

Edward chuckled, shaking his head before heading to his own rooms.

 

Sunday afternoon Edward ran into Ron, Harry, and Hermione on their way out of the Great Hall after breakfast and invited them down to his office. He wanted to know what had happened last night.

“Well?” Edward sighed once he had them seated before his desk. “What happened? What’s this that Malfoy was saying about dragons? I want to know what you two,” he pointed at Harry and Hermione, “were doing out of bed after hours.”

The trio exchanged wary looks before Harry sighed and confessed what had been going on for the last week.

“So let me get this straight.” Edward frowned. “Hagrid had won a dragon in a game at a ruddy pub and hatched it? _That’s_ what the new pet he’s been keeping in his hut was?”

“Yes,” Ron said, rubbing the hand that had been swollen. It was still a little puffy, but it was clearly better than it had been on Thursday. “We convinced Hagrid to let my brother Charlie – he handles dragons in Romania, remember? Charlie said that a couple of his friends could pick Norbert up and bring him with them to Romania.”

“That’s what Harry and I were doing out of bed last night,” Hermione said softly. “We took Norbert up to the top of the Astronomy Tower so that Charlie’s friends could pick him up.”

“And Malfoy found out about this how?” Edward raised an eyebrow.

“Malfoy followed us from Herbology and was peeking in through the window in between a gap in Hagrid’s curtains when Norbert hatched,” Harry explained.

“He also found the letter Charlie wrote me about picking up Norbert in a book he borrowed from me while I was in the hospital wing,” Ron grumbled miserable.

“And poor Neville just happened to overhear Malfoy’s plans to catch you three,” Edward sighed.

The trio nodded miserably.

“Why didn’t you come to me with this?” Edward asked.

“We didn’t want to get Hagrid into trouble,” Harry mumbled.

“And you were so busy preparing for the Ministry inspection that we didn’t want to bother you,” Hermione added. “You’ve been working so hard to secure your job here.”  

“Bloody hell, you three! I’m your friend!” Edward cried, jumping to his feet and leaned over his desk.  “A student-teacher granted, but still a friend! Did it never cross your minds that I could have taken Norbert for you to give to these friends of Charlie’s so that none of you would have had to break the rules? I could have done it without suspicion! For goodness sake! I’m always carrying about creatures for Quirrell’s classes. No one would have suspected me doing anything other than my job as an intern under Quirrell. Malfoy could have been the only one who got in trouble last night!”

The three traded guilty looks.

“Look,” Edward sighed, “just let me know if something like this happens again. You three can trust me. You know that, right?”

Ron, Harry and Hermione shared a look before nodding.

“…Do you know what our detention is, Edward?” Hermione asked timidly.

“Not yet,” Edward sighed, running a hand over his face. “Snape and McGonagall still haven’t decided yet. You’ll know soon enough though, I suspect. Now off you go. Exams are in two weeks and I’m sure you three have lots of studying to do.”

 

Over the next week Edward tried to keep a better eye on Harry as exams got closer. The boy was understandably subdued. Overnight Harry Potter had gone from being one of the most popular kids at school, to being hated by all but the Slytherins who were back in the lead for the house cup. Harry had taken to studying even more with Hermione as exam week got closer.

The second week was even more stressful because the Ministry Official had arrived and sat in on all of his Alchemy classes. Not that anything went wrong of course. His students were all well prepared and continued to make him proud as they reviewed the basics of a transmutation circle and the theory of Alchemy. Most of them had even managed to memorize the periodic table and all it’s elements. None of them would be transmuting anything any time soon, but he was confident that everyone taking his class would pass his exam – it was only an introduction and theory class after all. The Ministry inspector was quite pleased with him, and informed him that so far, he’d managed to be impressed with Edward’s teachings and the promise he showed as a teacher at Hogwarts.

In the meantime, McGonagall and Snape were still trying to come up with a suitable detention for Harry, Malfoy, Hermione and Neville. Edward offered up his own opinions whenever he could. Finally on Thursday night during another of their discussions, Dumbledore turned up and informed them of a situation Hagrid was having with the unicorns in the Dark Forest. Hagrid would be looking into it the following night.

“That sounds promising,” Snape agreed. “Send the four students with Hagrid to find this injured unicorn for their detention.”

“I hardly think that sending four students out at night into the forbidden forest with only Hagrid and his dog for protection is safe,” McGonagall said sternly with a frown.

“Then may I suggest that Edward go with them?” Dumbledore said. “If that is alright with you, of course, Edward.”

“I don’t mind,” Edward said. “It’ll get me out of the castle for a while at least. I could use a break after the Ministry’s evaluations anyway.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “Minerva, you can send out the notices tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Of course,” McGonagall said.

 

The next day after classes and dinner, Edward relaxed back in his office as he prepared for the late night ahead of him. He’d taken short naps throughout the day during his breaks so that he’d be able to stay awake. Just as he’d pocketed the last item he thought he’d need on his person, there was a knock at his office door. He opened the door and came face to face with Draco Malfoy who had a note in his hand. Edward took it without a word and read it.

_Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight. Meet Professor Elric at his office by ten-fifty._

“All ready then?” Edward asked, pocketing the note.

Malfoy nodded.

“Then let’s go. We’re meeting Mr. Filch and the other three in the entrance hall,” Edward informed the blond as he led the way upstairs.

They had to wait another five minutes with Filch for Harry, Hermione and Neville to arrive.

“Follow me,” said Filch once they were all gathered, lighting a lamp and led them outside.

“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” Filch said, leering at the four students. “Oh yes…hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. …It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re ever needed. …Right, off we go, and don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.”

Edward rolled his eyes at Filch’s dramatics as they marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing, so he put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Ignore him, Neville,” Edward whispered so that only the boy could hear him. “He’s just a miserable old geezer who’s getting his kicks in while he can.”

The boy nodded morosely, but smiled gratefully back at him for a second.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Edward could see the lit windows of Hagrid’s hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

“Is that you, Filch? Edward? Hurry up, I want ter get started.”

Edward smiled when he saw the looks of relief spread across Harry and Hermione’s faces at the sound of Hagrid’s voice. Unfortunately, Filch saw them too.

“I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourselves with that oaf? Well, think again – it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”

At this, poor Neville let out a little whimper and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

“The forest?” Malfoy repeated, an edge of panic in his voice. “We can’t go in there – there’s all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard.”

Neville let out a terrified squeak and clutched at the sleeve of Harry’s robe and made a choking noise.

“That’ your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch, voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?”

Hagrid then chose that moment to come striding into view out of the dark with Fang at his heel. He was carrying a large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

“Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?”

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s enough Filch,” Edward barked, shoving his way past the caretaker to stand beside Hagrid.

“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, Ed n’ I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, as he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Edward shook his head and started pulling out some of the materials he’d brought with him. Hagrid had warned him that there might be some trouble in the forest, so he’d made sure to bring some raw materials he could transmute with. As he was getting his things ready he heard Malfoy start complaining to Hagrid.

“I’m not going in that forest,” the blond boy said.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Edward heard Hagrid reply fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d-!”

“-tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. Go on!”

Edward looked up and saw that Malfoy hadn’t moved. The boy glared at Hagrid fiercely, but then dropped his gaze.

“You two quite finished?” Edward asked breezily before placing his hands down on the edges of the transmutation circle he’d drawn beneath the arrangement of materials he’d finished setting up. He had to make sure that he drew the circles now instead of relying on his hand-clapping transmutations. Hermione was quite knowledgeable about alchemy by now and he didn’t want her asking any unnecessary questions about his unique ability to transmute without a transmutation circle. There was a flash of light and energy sparks and arcs in the air before everything settled and a spear was standing upright in the middle of the circle. Edward took the spear in his hand and examined it, satisfied that it was more durable than his usual spontaneous in-the-moment made spears. He took satisfaction in the shocked looks on all of their faces. He raised an eyebrow at Hagrid and cocked his head towards the forest.

“Err… Right then,” Hagrid shook himself and got back into stern-guide mode. “Now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

The large man led them over to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, Hagrid pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

“Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Malfoy asked fearfully.

“That’s what Hagrid and I are here for,” Edward reassured the four students – more for Neville’s sake. The boy looked near ready to burst into tears.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” Hagrid said. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we’re gonna split inter two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.”

“I want Fang,” Malfoy said quickly, no doubt looking at Fang’s long teeth.

“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid, making Edward snicker. “So, me, Harry, an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Edward, Draco, Neville, an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if any of us find the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an’ practice now – that’s it – an’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh – so, be careful – let’s go.”

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, Fang, and Edward took the right. They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. After a while Edward cast a spell on his spearhead to light up the tip and give them better lighting aside from the lantern that Neville was carrying. The blood trail was fading and it looked like the blood they were finding was older than what they’d started out with. The three humans and the dog entered a clearing where the blood trail ended.

“This must be where the poor creature was attacked,” Edward mused, kneeling down to get a better look at the scuffled hoof marks in the earth.

Then he heard Neville let out this loud terrified shriek and the sound of their lantern falling to the ground and breaking. Edward turned around in time to see Neville point his wand at the sky and shoot up red sparks. Fang was barking and Malfoy was snickering with laughter. Poor Neville was in tears, backing hurriedly away from the blond.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Edward snapped angrily.

“It was only a joke, Professor.” Malfoy shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d freak out that much.”

“Idiot!” Edward yelled, turning on the blond after casting a repairing charm on the broken lantern and handing it relit back to Neville. “That kind of behavior cannot be tolerated out here! Grow up, brat! I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole forest was aware to our presence now, including the thing that’s been attacking these unicorns!”

Malfoy didn’t look so amused now. It didn’t help that Fang hadn’t stopped barking.

“Shut up, Fang!” Edward yelled at the boarhound.

“Wha’ in blazes is goin’ on!” Hagrid roared as he came barreling into the clearing. “I thought you lot were in trouble!”

“Malfoy snook up and grabbed Neville from behind,” Edward huffed. “Poor kid panicked and sent up the sparks.”

Hagrid grumbled angrily and chewed out Malfoy some more as they all left the clearing to meet back up with Harry and Hermione. Hagrid had left the pair back where they’d been searching to check on Edward and his group.

“We’ll be lucky ter catch anythin’ now, with the racket you four were makin’. Right, we’re changin’ groups – Neville, you stay with me an’ Hermione. Harry, you go with Edward, Fang, an’ this idiot,” Hagrid sighed.

Edward and Harry nodded before they set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. Once they were a good distance away from Hagrid and the other two, Edward rounded on Malfoy and leveled his spear at him.

“Now you listen to me, and you listen good, Malfoy,” Edward snarled, pinning the blond boy to a tree. “You try to pull something like that again and I will clobber you and stick you with this spear, you understand me?”

Malfoy’s eyes went wide like tea saucers.

“Y-you… you wouldn’t dare!” Malfoy cried.

“Wanna bet?” Edward gave the boy his best crazy sadistic smile. “So, do we have an understanding, Mr. Malfoy?”

Malfoy paled and nodded furiously.

“Great!” Edward beamed, letting Malfoy go, and continued on down the forest trail whistling to himself.

“He’s mad,” he heard Malfoy whisper to Harry. “How can Dumbledore let him teach at Hogwarts?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry shrug. When Malfoy wasn’t looking Edward looked back over his shoulder and winked at Harry, getting a smile and a silent snicker out of the boy.

They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. The blood trail also seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as if the poor creature had been thrashing about in pain close by. Edward could see a clearing ahead, through the tangle of branches from an ancient oak.

“Look,” he murmured, holding out his arms to stop the two boys. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They cautiously inched closer, Edward getting a better grip on his spear just in case.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Edward had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. It’s long slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and it’s mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

The three of them had taken another step towards it when a slithering sound made Edward and Harry freeze where they stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. They all stood transfixed as the cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and began to drink its blood.

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted with Fang right behind him. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry and Edward – unicorn blood dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly towards them. Harry was frozen with fear, but Edward wasn’t. He raised his spear and leveled it at the hooded figure, ready to fight.

Harry let out a pained cry but Edward didn’t dare look back to check on the boy as the hooded figure came upon them. Then he heard the sound of hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over the two of them, charging at the figure. Edward made sure that the figure was occupied with the creature before turning to check on Harry who was on his knees clutching his head.

“Harry!” Edward cried, trying to figure out what was wrong with the boy.

A minute later Harry’s heavy breathing evened out and the hands fell away from his head.

“I’m fine,” Harry gasped.

“What happened?” Edward demanded.

“…My scar,” Harry winced. “It was burning like it was on fire…”

“Are you two alright?”

Harry jumped and Edward jerked his head around and noticed that the hooded figure was gone now and that the creature that had saved them was a centaur.

“Yes. Thank you,” Edward said as he helped Harry back to his feet. He looked around and noticed that Malfoy was nowhere to be found. At least the idiot had Fang with him.

“What _was_ that thing?” he heard Harry ask.

The centaur didn’t answer his question though. Edward noticed that the creature was staring at Harry’s scar.

“You are the Potter boy,” the centaur said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time – especially for you. Can you two ride? It will be quicker this way.”

“My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself onto his front legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back.

Firenze looked curiously at Edward wondering why he hadn’t gotten on, but Edward shook his head.

“I’m a fast runner,” Edward shrugged, before sending up green sparks into the sky for Hagrid.

There was suddenly the sound of more galloping hooves from the other side of the clearing and two more centaurs came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

“Firenze!” the black haired and bigger centaur thundered. “What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

“Do you realize who this is?” said Firenze. “This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better.”

“What have you been telling him?” growled the same centaur. “Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

The other, smaller, chestnut colored centaur with red hair pawed the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best,” he said in a gloomy voice.

The black haired centaur kicked his back legs in anger.

“For the best!” he spat. “What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Firenze suddenly reared up on his hind legs in anger, and Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on. Edward stepped back from the centaur but remained close in case he needed to catch Harry.

“Do you not see that unicorn?” Firenze bellowed at the black haired centaur. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must.”

And then Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, and they plunged off into the trees, leaving Bane and the other centaur behind them.

Edward didn’t have a clue as to what was going on, but he raced after Firenze as best he could and managed to catch up after Firenze slowed his gallop to a walk. They made their way through the trees in silence for a while until the centaur suddenly stopped.

“Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?” he asked.

“No,” said Harry. “We’ve only used the horn and hair in potions.”

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” Firenze informed them. “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

Harry stared worriedly at Edward for a moment before looking back at the back of Firenze’s head.

“But who’d be that desperate?” Harry asked. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Firenze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone! Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don’t understand who-!”

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

Harry looked horrified and Edward himself felt vaguely disturbed.

“Do you mean,” Harry croaked, “that was _Vol_ -!”

“Harry! Harry, Edward, are you two alright?”

Hermione was suddenly there, running towards them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her. Neville, Malfoy and Fang were coming along a little further back.

“I’m fine,” Harry answered her.

“The unicorn’s dead, Hagrid,” Edward sighed before the man could ask him about his green sparks signal. “It’s in that clearing back there.”

“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.”

Harry slid off the centaur’s back with Edward’s help.

“Good luck, Harry Potter,” said Firenze. “The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”

The horse-man turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving them alone. Hermione turned, looking at them inquiringly, but Edward shook his head sharply, indicating Malfoy and Neville who had almost caught up to them.

“Not here,” he hissed. “Harry can tell you what happened later. We’ll all discuss this later in my office with Ron.”

Harry and Hermione nodded, falling silent and waited with him, Malfoy, Neville, and Fang for Hagrid to come back.


	6. Dungeons, Evil Dark Lords, and the End of a Year/Epilogue

After returning from the Forbidden Forest, Edward made Harry promise not to discuss what had happened with anyone, not even Hermione or Ron until they could all talk about it together in the morning. Harry looked reluctant to agree and Hermione looked just plain pissed that she was being left out of the loop, but Harry promised and Hermione agreed not to pester. 

Early the next morning Edward was awoken by the trio before he could do his usual morning stretches. They apparently couldn’t wait any longer to talk about what had happened in the forest, so Edward allowed them to tag along with him outside. He started his warm-up stretches while Harry told a wide-eyed Ron and Hermione what had happened. The boy just couldn’t sit still and had begun to pace, shaking with the memory. Edward had only been paying half attention the whole time, focusing on his movements, but the next part of Harry’s story brought him fully back to the present.

“Snape wants the stone for Voldemort… and Voldemort’s waiting in the forest… and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich…”

“Stop saying the name!” said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Edward ceased his stretching, more than warmed up without going into his martial exercises. He was apparently going to have to forego those this morning. He wanted to stop Harry and stand up for Snape, but Harry wasn’t going to listen and had continued on as if Ron hadn’t spoken.

“Firenze saved me, but he shouldn’t have done so… Bane was furious… he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen… They must show that Voldemort’s coming back… Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me… I suppose that’s written in the stars as well.”

“ _ Will you stop saying the name! _ ” Ron hissed.

“And stop being so overly dramatic,” Edward said, rolling his eyes.

“So all I’ve got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone,” Harry went on feverishly, “then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off… Well I suppose Bane’ll be happy.”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Edward growled. “Why are you still going on about Snape? The guy’s a decent bloke once you give him a chance. And stop with the whole doom and gloom, would ya? Not everything’s about you, Potter.”

Harry stared at him, looking shocked and scandalized that Edward was still defending Snape. Hermione looked very frightened, but she spoke up softly in an attempt to appease her friend.

“Harry, everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won’t touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that’s a very imprecise branch of magic.”

“Finally! Someone’s talking sense! Hermione’s right, Harry,” Edward huffed. “Dumbledore might not look like much, but he’s a crafty and powerful wizard. No one is going to dare make a move for the stone while he’s here. And as for the bullshit that that Bane guy was spouting, stargazing is a highly subjective form of divination. Granted, it’s more accurate than reading tea leaves and gazing into a crystal ball, but any and all “signs” found in the stars can be interpreted in innumerous ways depending on the reader. Nothing is set in stone, Harry. We make our own destiny.”

“Well someone obviously thinks something is going to happen,” Harry huffed, pulling a note out of his pocket. 

Edward took the note and Ron and Hermione crowded around to see it as well. It said, “Just in case,” in familiar loopy handwriting. Edward recognized it as Dumbledore’s. The meddling old bastard. What was he up to? Did he  _ want _ Harry to get involved?

“When I went to bed last night,” Harry continued, “I found this under my sheets with my invisibility cloak. Hermione and I only got caught on our way back to Gryffindor Tower because I’d accidentally left it in the Astronomy Tower after we brought Norbert up to be taken to Romania. Obviously somebody found and returned it.”

Edward pursed his lips together, handing the note back.

“I want you three to promise me something,” he said grimly in his serious no-nonsense tone. “I want you all to be careful and come to me if anything – and I mean  _ anything _ – happens or comes to your attention. Let me know. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Hagrid’s bloody dragon.”

Hermione and Ron nodded quickly, eager to accept his help. Harry hesitated, however, before nodding as well. Edward knew that his continued defense for Snape was the reason Harry wasn’t as eager to make that promise, but he could only hope that the boy was smart enough to not let that get in the way.

They headed back up to the castle soon after so that they could all do some last minute studying to prepare for next week’s finals. 

Edward had spent the rest of the day and all of Sunday writing up the final for his Alchemy class, and had reluctantly helped Quirrell review and approve the Defense Against the Dark Arts finals. It was strange how in a classroom setting, Edward could almost fall for the lie that Quirrell wasn’t the agent for the Dark Lord that Snape believed the man to be. When he was in the classroom, Quirrell was his usual stuttering, timid, and shy self. Edward just couldn’t muster up any suspicion towards the man during these times and treated him like he would anyone else. Though, maybe that’s why Quirrell hadn’t tried to avoid him over the course of the year even though it was well known by now – at least by the staff – that Edward and Snape were rather good friends. It could only work in Edward’s favor though. It meant that he was able to keep a subtle eye on the shifty bastard even when they were outside the classroom when Snape could not.

When Monday rolled around everyone was preoccupied with finals. Edward was kept especially busy during this particular week. When he was giving his alchemy finals things were practically easy. He just had to sit there while they took their exams and made sure no one was cheating. When those were done, he reminded everyone (except for his three seventh year students) that they could sign up for a follow-up course he was planning on offering next year for those who were interesting in learning the more practical application of Alchemy. 

What took up most of his time, however, was assisting Quirrell with giving his finals – both the written and practical exams. Tensions were high for all student years and there were more than a few nervous breakdowns. It was during this time that he’d started to notice that Quirrell was getting restless and he was starting to slip. There were flashes of irritation, anger, and worry that occasionally crept onto his face more often as the week progressed. Edward realized that after finals week was over, there’d only be one week left before the school year would be over and everyone would be sent back home. Quirrell was running out of time to get the stone, and was apparently getting desperate. After telling Snape about Quirrell’s behavior, both of them agreed to keep a closer eye on the man.

The week coming to an end was practically a blessing. Friday was Quirrell’s heaviest exam day and by that evening Edward was about fed up with the man’s stuttering and prattling. Quirrell had been a complete basket case and had nearly worked himself into a tizzy. Edward wondered how much of the man’s nervous ramblings was an act or if he was actually that frazzled due to exam stress like everyone else. He had never been so grateful for a day to be over and crashed in his office, choosing to eat in, instead of going to the dining hall. Let Snape deal with Quirrell for the evening.

He was dozing lightly in his lounge chair by the fire in his quarters when an insistent knock came from his portrait hole. Edward groaned and looked up at the clock over the mantle. It was nearly midnight.

“Damn it, Severus,” Edward growled as he stalked to Al’s portrait. “I swear, if you’re just coming up here to rant about Quirrell again–”

“Edward! Please! Open up! This is an emergency!”

Edward paused, blinking in surprise, before throwing the portrait open and stared down at…thin air? A second late the air shimmered and then Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing before him, looking out of breath and worried.

“What the hell are you three doing out of bed?” Edward hissed, jumping down into his office.

“Edward, please, you have to listen,” Hermione squeaked breathlessly.

“Did you know that Dumbledore left?” Harry demanded.

“Dumbledore’s gone?” Edward frowned.

“Yes!” Ron nodded. “Professor McGonagall said that he’d gotten an owl from the ministry.”

“But we think that Snape,” Harry started, but changed his tone when he saw Edward starting to object, “–or whoever it is that’s trying to get the stone sent it. Tonight’s the perfect night to do it!”

“And they can because Hagrid told him how to get passed Fluffy!” Ron added.

“Ok, everyone calm down!” Edward shouted as the three tried to talk all at once. “Now, Hermione,  _ please _ , tell me what the bloody hell is going on.”

And she did, with Ron and Harry adding their own two bits in about what they’d figured out. Whoever it was that Hagrid had gotten the dragon’s egg from had managed to trick Hagrid into revealing how to get past Fluffy with music – which would explain why Dumbledore had been whistling when Edward had first been taken down there. Then they’d informed him of how they’d learned from McGonagall that Dumbledore had been summoned to the Ministry and explained their reasoning behind thinking that whoever it was that was trying to get the stone – whom they still believed to be Snape – would try to get past Fluffy tonight.

“We would have come to you sooner, Edward, but you weren’t at dinner,” Hermione sighed after their explanation. 

“And we’re wasting time! They could already have the stone by now,” Harry huffed in exasperation, fidgeting with his invisibility cloak.

“Alright, I hear you,” Edward sighed.

“Then let’s go!” Harry said, heading for the door.

“Wait a minute!” Edward cried. 

Ron and Hermione were right behind Harry though and together they threw the invisibility cloak on as they went out the door.

Edward huffed, grabbing his wand, and rushed out the door after them.

“Now just wait you three,” he demanded. “At least let me go check on Snape.”

He could feel their dubious glances sent from under the cloak, but Edward didn’t wait as he hurried next door to Snape’s office and chambers. Snape wasn’t in, however, and Edward felt the first inkling of dread. Where the hell was he? Something was definitely up tonight. The feeling only increased when he returned to the hall and found that Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone.

“Shit!” Edward hissed as he hurried for the third floor corridor. It was on his way up the second staircase that he finally ran into Snape who was leaning heavily against the stair banister looking slightly concussed.

“Are you alright?” Edward asked, coming to the man’s aid.

“No,” Snape growled. “Quirrell. He caught me by surprise after dinner and stuffed me behind a suit of armor. I’ve only just come to.”

“Great,” Edward groaned. “Potter and the others thought something was going to happen tonight. They were just in my office a little while ago, but ditched me when I went to get you. They must already be there.”

Snape growled vicious expletives under his breath.

“Right, you go send word to Dumbledore, I’ll go after them,” Snape sighed.

“No,  _ you _ send word to Dumbledore.  _ I’ll _ go after them. I’m not the one concussed, and I’m the only one who’ll be able to get past my stone suits of armor if those three make it that far.”

“You really think they can?” Snape scoffed.

“Granger’s the smartest witch in their year – I saw her exam scores. She’ll know how to get past the Devil's Snare and puzzle out your potions riddle. If Weasley’s good at anything, it’s chess. And Potter’s the youngest seeker in a century, so he’ll be able to beat Flitwick’s flying keys.”

“And Quirrell’s troll?” Snape asked.

“Even if Quirrell hasn’t killed that thing already, those three have taken one on already and will figure something out,” Edward huffed. “Now stop arguing with me! We’re wasting time.”

Snape grunted, nodding reluctantly, and winced a bit as he did so. That hadn’t been smart. Once he was sure his colleague would be all right, Edward dashed up the next staircase and darted down the third floor corridor, pausing outside the door. He gathered himself and carefully eased it open, peeking in. The dog was growling down at the hole in the floor where the trap door had been ripped off it’s hinges. Edward could see a harp sitting nearby – Quirrell’s work no doubt, and quickly cast a spell to get it playing again. A minute later the beast was asleep. Easing his way into the room, Edward saw the shattered remains of the trapdoor on the far side of the room. Tiptoeing, Edward quickly crept over to the hole and looked down. The ladder had been removed from the last time he’d been here months ago. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Edward jumped down the hole. The fall seemed to take forever before he finally landed on the squishy devil’s snare. He wasted no time casting a fire spell to dispel the plant before it could strangle him, and dropped another six feet, landing in a crouch in the passage beneath him.

“Well that was fun,” Edward growled before hurrying off down the corridor to the next room. The next task was more time consuming. Edward looked around for the key that would allow him to make it into the next room. Finding the key hadn’t been the hard part – it was kind of hard to miss the poor bent-winged key. Catching it had been the nightmare. He’d had to use the broom left there for the task and nearly fallen off it a few times trying to catch the damn thing. Finally – after who knows how long – he managed to snatch the key out of the air and crammed it into the lock. His heart nearly stopped when he entered the next room and found Ron knocked out in the rubble of the discarded chess pieces. Edward cast the halting spell McGonagall had taught him that stopped the chess pieces from preventing him from going further (he’d needed to know it in order to move on to the last chamber where he’d put his own stone guardians). He quickly checked the boy’s vitals and was happy to find that Ron was only knocked unconscious, if not just a little scratched and bruised. Hermione suddenly appeared a few minutes later.

“Harry’s already in the last room,” Edward grit his teeth, “isn’t he?”

Hermione nodded, eyes wide.

“Snape’s gone after Dumbledore,” Edward informed her. “I need you to take Ron back up while I go after Harry before Quirrell kills him.”

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed with shock.

“Don’t ask any questions, just go!” Edward barked at her as he hurried into the next room, not even blinking at the incapacitated troll. He wasted little to no time figuring out Snape’s potion riddle, drinking from the obvious choice – the little bottle that had been empty but was now refilled so that the next person to give the riddle a shot could enter. Edward could only hope that this meant he wasn’t that far behind Harry. He shivered as he drank the icy concoction and entered the fire door in front of him.

On the other side he was met with a rather amusing scenario. There was Quirrell talking to Harry. Both were standing warily outside the ring of twelve stone Al-Suit statues with the Mirror of Erised in the middle of the large chamber. Quirrell obviously hadn’t gotten that far before Harry had caught up with him. Edward crept behind a pillar to hide while his presence remained unnoticed and listened in on their conversation.

“But Snape tried to kill me!” Harry was saying.

“No, no, no.  _ I _ tried to kill you,” Quirrell scowled. “If your friend Miss Granger hadn’t set Snape’s cloak on fire and caused someone to knock me over, I wouldn’t have broken my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have got you off that broom. I’d have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a counter curse, trying to save you.”

“So Edward had been telling the truth. Snape had been trying to  _ save _ me.”

“Of course,” said Quirrell coolly. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny, really… he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he  _ did _ make himself unpopular… and what a waste of time, when after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight.”

Quirrell snapped his fingers and ropes sprang out of thin air to wrap around Harry, but Edward decided that he’d been idling long enough.

“I don’t think so,” Edward growled, casting his own spell to burn the ropes away before they could ensnare Harry.

“Ah, Elric.” Quirrell frowned. “I suppose I should have expected you to stick your nose into things as well, what with you being so chummy with Severus and all.”

“You should have,” Edward smirked and with a wave of his wand, six of the Al-Armor statues marched over and leveled spears at Quirrell.

Quirrell eyed them warily.

“I take it these are your doing?”

“Like them?” Edward grinned. “They’re infused with a combination of spell-work and alchemy. No one but me and maybe Dumbledore can call them off.”

“Is that a fact?” Quirrell mused, wincing when one of the statues poked him in the back.

“Well, why don’t you attack them and find out?” Edward smiled.

Quirrell narrowed his eyes at Edward, muttering a curse before using an exploding spell to knock a statue away. Then the other statues went into action. The six still surrounding the mirror took up defensive stances and the five remaining around Quirrell charged, trying to stick him with their spears. Quirrell was rather agile and managed to dodge their attacks. Edward tugged Harry along behind him, to the middle of the room to the mirror and six defending statues. There was no way Edward was going to leave the boy open to the assault. While Edward was monitoring the fight, however, Harry had turned to face the mirror.

“Why’d you go after Potter at the Quidditch game, Quirrell?” Edward asked.

“He was too nosy for his own good!” Quirrell barked, actually destroying one of the statues with a rather violent blasting curse. “Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew, he’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.”

“So you were the one who let the troll in,” Edward mused, watching the man he’d been working with for a year run around and occasionally get in another damaging shot at one of the remaining four attacking statues.

“Certainly,” Quirrell quipped, dispatching another statue and talking as if they were having an afternoon tea after classes. “I have a special gift with trolls – you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off – and not only did my troll fail to beat Potter to death, that three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off properly.”

“But I saw you and Snape in the forest,” Harry blurted out from behind Edward. Apparently the kid was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Snape had been the good guy in all of this.

“Yes,” Quirrell hissed, blasting away a third statue. “He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I’d got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me – as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…”

“But Snape always seemed to hate me so much,” Harry said.

“Oh, he does,” said Quirrell casually, “heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other. Be he never wanted you  _ dead _ .”

“But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing – I thought Snape was threatening you…”

“I’m sure he was,” Edward grumbled under his breath, wondering what Harry was up to with all these questions. Then he noticed the light spasm of fear that flitted across Quirrell’s face, his confidence faltering enough that he nearly got stabbed by one of the remaining two statues still in the fight. Then with a vicious hiss, Quirrell got rid of them both and dispatched the injured statue he’d sent flying at the beginning of the fight.

“Sometimes,” Quirrell said, “I find it hard to follow my master’s instructions – he is a great wizard and I am weak –”

“You mean he was there in the classroom with you?” Harry gasped, turning away from the mirror for the first time since Edward had brought him over, and stared fearfully at the man standing among the stone rubble.

“He is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…”

“How?” Edward asked, a nervous feeling welling up inside of him as Quirrell started to make his way towards them. Quirrell didn’t answer. With a curse, Edward sent the remaining six statues after the man. Quirrell was even quicker to destroy them than he had with the previous six now that he knew what kind of spells worked on them. For someone who was supposed to be weak, he was certainly powerful. Once done with the statues, Quirrell sent both Harry and Edward flying away from the mirror bound in ropes.

“Shit!” Edward hissed. He tried to wriggle loose from the ropes.

“Quiet, Elric,” Quirrell said, sounding bored as he circled the mirror. “Now what does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”

And to Edward and Harry’s horror, a voice answered. A voice that seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

“Use the boy… Use the boy…”

“Yes – Potter – come here!” Quirrell rounded on Harry and clapped his hands once, the ropes binding Harry falling away. Harry slowly got up to his feet while Edward struggled against his own binds, slowly working his arms behind him.

“Come here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”

Harry slowly made his way in front of the mirror and stared for a few seconds. After a moment, the boy looked bewildered as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. Quirrell caught the expression as well.

“Well?” Quirrell asked impatiently. “What do you see?”

“I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” Harry spoke with a slight tremor in his voice. “I-I’ve won the house cup for Gryffindor.”

Quirrell cursed.

“Get out of the way,” he said.

Harry did just that and started making his way back over towards Edward, but he hadn’t walked five paces before that voice spoke again.

“He lies… He lies…”

“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Tell me the truth! What did you just see?”

“Let me speak to him…” the voice hissed, “face-to-face…”

“Master, you are not strong enough!” Quirrell paled.

“I have strength enough… for this…”

Harry was frozen, turning back around slowly and Edward found his own gaze drawn to Quirrell as the man reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What the hell was going on? The turban fell away and Quirrell’s head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot. Edward felt ill when he saw it. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face; a most gruesome face that Edward hadn’t seen the like of since he’d faced the homunculi and their abominations back home. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

“Harry Potter…” it whispered.

Poor Harry looked like he’d been petrified.

“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another’s body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you and Elric saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… Now… why don’t you give me that stone in your pocket?”

Harry stumbled backwards, scrambling back towards Edward, who’d renewed his effort to break free of the ropes. He’d gotten his arms behind him, now if only he could manage to clap his hands together to transmute his automail arm.

“Don’t be a fool,” the face snarled. “Better save your own life and join me… or you’ll meet the same end as your parents… They died begging me for mercy…”

“LIAR!” Harry shouted.

Quirrell was walking backwards now so that Voldemort could still see Harry. The evil face was smiling now.

“How touching…” it hissed. “I always value bravery… Yes, boy, your parents were brave… I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn’t have died… she was trying to protect you… Now give me the stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.”

“NEVER!”

Harry spun around and made a mad dash for Edward. 

“SEIZE HIM!” Voldemort screamed.

Harry managed to reach Edward and tried to work the ropes loose, but Harry was quickly yanked back by the wrist by Quirrell. Harry let out a pained scream, and struggled with all his might, and to both his and Edward’s surprise, Quirrell let go. The man hunched over in pain looking at his fingers that were starting to blister before their eyes. Edward felt the ropes slacken, not completely, but enough for him to clap his hands together and transmute the fingers of his automail hand into blades and began sawing his way free.

“Seize him! SEIZE HIM!” Voldemort was shrieking again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, both of them screaming in agony.

“Master, I cannot hold him – my hands – my hands!”

“Then kill him, fool and be done!” screeched Voldemort.

Edward began to saw harder at the ropes, managing to break free in time to see Harry reach up and grab Quirrell’s face with his bare hands. Quirrell shrieked, howling in pain, rolling off the boy, his face blistering just like his hands had. Edward realized that Quirrell couldn’t touch Harry’s bare skin without getting burned. Harry must have realized this too because he charged forward and caught Quirrell by the arm, hanging on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed even louder and tried to throw Harry off. Harry was obviously suffering too though, his face scrunched up in pain, before Quirrell managed to throw him off. The boy fell in an unconscious heap.

Edward threw off the rest of his ropes and blasted Quirrell back with a spell, throwing him into the mirror that shattered on impact. Quirrell’s body crumpled to the floor pierced with shards of mirror glass. Edward cast one wary glance at the man before hurrying over to Harry’s side, checking his vitals, relieved to find that the boy was only unconscious.

“Snape was right,” Edward huffed. “You are a trouble-maker.”

Edward then glanced back at Quirrell, wondering if he should check on his condition as well. Not wanting to leave Harry unprotected though, Edward recreated an Al-Suit statue out of the rubble and cast a protective barrier charm over it and the boy. Edward had just finished checking Quirrell’s vital signs – or lack thereof since the man was dead – when wisps of smoke began to rise up from the corpse. Edward jerked back to stand in front of the statue and Harry’s unconscious form, wand at the ready.

The grey smoke took the shape of the face that had been on the back of Quirrell’s head. It roared and charged at Edward. Edward cast a shield spell around himself and the apparition bounced off it, and dived around to Harry, but the stone statue crouched protectively in front of it’s charge and the barrier spell sent the smoke howling angrily away.

Edward watched what was left of Voldemort flee out of the chamber and waited a minute before taking in the scene around him. Quirrell was dead, Harry was unconscious, and he had no freaking idea how he was going to get the boy up to the Hospital Wing for treatment. But first thing was first. Voldemort said that the Philosopher’s Stone had been in Harry’s pocket. Edward patted the boy down to find the right pocket and drew out the red stone. Just as he’d managed to do this, he heard footsteps approaching. Drawing his wand again, and setting his statue guard in defense mode, Edward crammed the stone into his pocket. He was relieved to see that it was only Dumbledore and Snape.

“Took you long enough!” he snapped, having the statue stand down.

“Harry, how is he?” Dumbledore asked worriedly.

“He’s unconscious, but fine as far as I can tell,” Edward scowled. “Quirrell, on the other hand, is dead. Let’s just get Harry to the infirmary before anything else happens. I’ll brief you both on what happened after –  _ and only after _ – we get this boy taken care of.”

“Agreed.” Dumbledore nodded.

 

Hours later Edward was reclined in a chair in Dumbledore’s office sitting with the headmaster, Snape, and McGonagall, recounting events for them all.

“Good Gracious,” McGonagall breathed when he was finished.

“And the stone, Edward?” Dumbledore inquired.

“Right here,” Edward grit his teeth and withdrew the Stone from his pocket. “I’m trying really hard not to destroy it right this minute, Dumbledore. It should have been destroyed ages ago. None of this should have happened.”

“I understand,” Dumbledore sighed. “But-!”

“No! No buts,” Edward snapped. “Because you failed to destroy this thing and instead kept it hidden within the school, three students – three  _ first year students _ at that – got involved and were hurt. For fuck’s sake, together three  _ first year students _ managed to figure everything out and got through an entire underground labyrinth’s worth of spells and enchantments that we  _ teachers _ came up with! Potter could have  _ died _ , Dumbledore! I warned you that nothing good would come from this thing and I think I have every right to destroy it, and Merlin be damned if you try to stop me.”

It was silent for a long time before Dumbledore sighed and nodded.

“Very well, Edward. Destroy it. I shall inform Flamel of the circumstances.”

“You do that,” Edward snapped before storming out of the room. He wasn’t going to wait another minute. He headed for the dungeons and went about destroying the stone. It was pathetically easy. First he shattered it into tiny pieces (much to his surprise) with a powerful blasting spell he’d fired at it in anger and frustration. Then he ground those shards into powder, and poured the powder into acid. He watched the concoction erode away with satisfaction before getting rid of it with a banishing spell used for potions. The process was strangely therapeutic.

With that all done, he retreated to his chambers and slept the rest of the morning away. He awoke later and had a late lunch before heading to the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey fussed over him for a bit before letting him camp out by Harry’s bedside on a cot of his own. Ron and Hermione were already there with a few other Gryffindors, and was hounded for his side of the adventure. Apparently the two had already told the others what they knew had happened and word had already spread around the school; rumors of what happened with him, Harry and Quirrell were spreading like fiend fire. Figures. The kids soon had to leave though. Because he refused to tell his part in story he was apparently causing the others to get rowdy and was disturbing the peace.

Edward then promptly checked himself out (much to Pomfrey’s disapproval) and tried his best to avoid getting caught and cornered by students after that. He tended to hang out more in his private rooms grading final papers and around Snape when he came out for meals. He decided to go visit Harry after normal visiting hours were over. The only one who joined him (and was allowed to) on these occasions was Dumbledore. Edward and Dumbledore were back on better terms now that the stone was destroyed, but that was mostly because Dumbledore looked embarrassed and guilty whenever they saw each other after Edward’s little blow up in his office. As promised, Dumbledore had informed Flamel of what had happened and of the stone’s destruction. The ancient man had apparently been expecting as much and had accepted what had happened.

Harry didn’t wake up until his third day in the Hospital Wing. It was early in the morning and Edward had been dozing in his seat, but hearing Dumbledore speak roused him slightly. He didn’t bother to open his eyes though.

“Good morning, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“…Sir! The stone! It was Quirrell! He’s got the stone! Sir, quick–” Harry gasped.

“Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times,” said Dumbledore. “Quirrell does not have the stone.”

“Then who does? Did Edward take it? Sir, I–”

“Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

It was quiet for a moment and Edward was tempted to open his eyes just to see what unspoken exchanges were being made.

“Tokens from your friends and admirers,” Dumbledore said after a long pause in verbal conversation. “What happened down in the dungeons between you, Edward, and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic and confiscated it.”

“How long have I been in here?”

“Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried.”

“But sir, the stone–”

“I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. When I’d arrived, Edward had already taken care of the situation.”

“You got there? You got Hermione’s owl?”

“Miss Granger did not need to send an owl. Edward had sent Professor Snape to send an owl after finding the poor man on his way after you. The owl and I must have crossed in mid air. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived only just after Edward had finished things with Quirrell and had taken charge of the Stone.”

“Is he alright?”

“He’s fine, as you can clearly see, if not a little tired.”

“And the stone?”

“It has been destroyed. Edward saw to that himself.”

“Destroyed? But your friend – Nickolas Flamel –”

“Oh, you know about Nickolas?” Dumbledore said, sounding quite delighted. “You  _ did _ do the thing properly, didn’t you? Well, Nickolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it’s all for the best. Not that it matters, if we hadn’t. Edward was adamant that it be destroyed, and disposed of it before I even had the chance to talk to Nickolas.”

“But that means he and his wife will die, won’t they?”

“They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die.” Dumbledore chuckled. “To one as young as you, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Nickolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very,  _ very _ long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all – the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them. Greed is a terrible thing, Harry, and Edward would be the first to tell you just how dangerous, and how terrible a Philosopher’s Stone really is. Its ends do not justify the means it takes to create such a powerful artifact. Edward was right to insist that the stone be destroyed. I only wish that I had listened to him sooner.”

It was quiet for another long moment and Edward contemplated opening his eyes to join the waking world when Harry spoke again.

“Sir? I’ve been thinking… Sir – even if the stone’s gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who–”

“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?”

“No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share…not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry was quiet again for a moment.

“Sir,” he said slowly, “there are some other things I’d like to know, if you can tell me…things I want to know the truth about…”

“The truth,” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you’ll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.”

“Well…Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?”

Edward had been wondering that too and waited for Dumbledore’s answer. However, the old man sighed very deeply this time, and he knew neither would get the answer.

“Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day…put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older…I know you hate to hear this…when you are ready, you will know.”

“But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?”

Another good question and one that Dumbledore could apparently answer.

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign…to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

It was quiet again and Edward decided now would not be a good time to open his eyes. He didn’t need to hear Harry’s slightly uneven breaths or soft sniffs to know that the kid was having an emotional moment and he didn’t need to witness that.

“And the invisibility cloak,” Harry said after he found his voice again. “Do you know who sent it to me?”

“Ah – your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it,” Dumbledore said happily. “Useful things…your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here.”

“And there’s something else…”

“Fire away.”

“Quirrell said Snape–”

“ _ Professor _ Snape, Harry.”

“Yes, him – Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?”

“Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive.”

_ Marry Lilly? _ Edward wondered.

“What?” Harry asked.

“He saved his life.”

“ _ What? _ ”

Edward snorted and couldn’t contain himself. He cracked up laughing, nearly falling out of his seat.

“Seriously?! Oh  _ God _ that’s rich,” Edward cackled.

“Nice of you to join us, Edward,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling knowingly and with amusement. “Yes… Funny, the way people’s minds work, isn’t it? Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt, Harry. I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace…”

Poor Harry just looked confused and shook his head slightly, moving on.

“And sir, there’s one more thing…”

“Just the one?”

“How did I get the stone out of the mirror?”

“Ah, now I’m glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between the three of us, that’s saying something.”

“Especially considering it was your idea to hide the Stone in the school in the first place,” Edward said mildly.

Dumbledore winced, but nodded before continuing.

“You see, only one who wanted to  _ find _ the stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my liking for them – but I think I’ll be safe with a nice toffee, don’t you?”

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, “Alas! Ear wax!”

Edward and Harry snickered. Dumbledore left soon after that and Edward and Harry continued to eat the rest of the flavored-beans. Edward avoided all white colored ones though. There was no way he was going to get a milk flavored bean and have  _ that _ embarrassing tidbit about himself come out. 

He allowed himself to be subjected to another exam of Madam Pomfrey’s so that he could be allowed to stay in the hospital wing with Harry now that he no longer had Dumbledore around as an excuse. It was time for his flesh ports to be examined and checked on again anyway, so Edward allowed himself to be carted off to another area where he could be examined in private. He even let her check him back in because he was showing signs of stress and exhaustion. At least, so long as he was assigned the cot next to Harry’s. Later that afternoon, Ron and Hermione were trying to stop by, but Madam Pomfrey was having none of it.

“Just five minutes,” Harry pleaded.

“Absolutely not.”

“You let Professor Dumbledore in and Professor Elric…”

“Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. And Professor Elric is here for his own health reasons. You two need  _ rest _ .”

“We are resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…”

“Five minutes isn’t going to kill him, Poppy.” Edward smiled up at the matron. “He just needs to see his friends to make sure they’re ok too. Mr. Weasley was knocked unconscious the last time Potter saw him.”

“Oh, very well,” she said. “But five minutes  _ only _ .”

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

“ _ Harry! Edward! _ ”

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around the two of them, but was very obviously holding herself back from doing so.

“Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to – Dumbledore was so worried–”

“The whole school’s talking about it,” said Ron. “What  _ really _ happened? Edward wouldn’t say.”

“Really? Why?” Harry asked, looking over at Edward.

“I didn’t like being pestered,” Edward scowled. “Thought I should wait until you woke up in case there were some things you didn’t want known.”

“So, seriously, what happened you guys?” Ron groaned.

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story was even stranger and more exciting than the wild rumors Edward had heard cycling around the school. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; Edward’s stone statues; and Voldemort. Harry was a great storyteller, and Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell’s turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

“So the stone’s gone?” Ron asked finally. 

“Not even a speck of dust left,” Edward said grimly.

“Flamel’s just going to  _ die? _ ”

“That’s what I said,” Harry nodded, “but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it, Edward? – ‘to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’”

“Something like that.” Edward shrugged, not really caring for this Flamel and Philosopher’s Stone topic. Couldn’t they just move on?

“I always said he was off his rocker,” Ron said, looking quite impressed in spite of his words. “I can’t believe you destroyed it just like that, Edward.”

“So what happened to you two?” Harry asked.

“Well, I got back all right,” Hermione said. “I brought Ron round after Edward left us to go after you – that took a while – and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him and Professor Snape in the entrance hall – Dumbledore already knew – he just said, ‘Harry and Edward have gone after him, haven’t they?’ and hurtled off to the third floor with Snape.”

“D’you think he meant to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?”

“He better not have,” Edward growled. “Cuz if he did, we are going to have some more serious words. I’m mad enough at him for keeping the stone, let alone hiding it here at a school.”

“ _ Well _ ,” Hermione exploded, “if he did – I mean to say – that’s terrible – you could have been killed, Harry.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…”

“It’s possible,” Edward growled. “He asked me to keep an eye out for you at the beginning of the year.”

“So that’s why you were in so many of our classes that first week of school!” Hermione gaped. “You were keeping an eye on Harry!”

“Yes, and no.” Edward shrugged. “I needed to sit in on classes to learn the ropes of teaching at Hogwarts. I just chose to kill two birds with one stone.”

“So Dumbledore knew that I’d be safe because you were keeping tabs on me.” Harry frowned.

“No, he probably knew you’d be safe because we became friends and I was keeping an eye out for all three of you,” Edward huffed. “Honestly, Harry, not everything revolves around you. I would have done the same for Ron and Hermione, you know.”

Harry smiled sheepishly, while Ron and Hermione beamed.

“Yeah, Dumbledore’s off his rocker, all right,” said Ron proudly. “Listen, you two’ve got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course – you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without Harry – but the food’ll be good.”

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

“You’ve had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT,” she said firmly.

 

After a good night’s sleep in the infirmary, both Harry and Edward felt nearly back to normal. Edward was cleared to go and was just waiting for Harry to get the green light so that they could go down for the feast together that evening.

“I want to go to the feast,” the boy was pleading with Madam Pomfrey as she straightened the kid’s many candy boxes. “I can, can’t I?”

“Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go,” she said stiffly, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn’t realize how risky feasts could be. “And you have another visitor.”

“Oh, good,” said Harry. “Who is it?”

Hagrid then sidled through the door, looking enormous even in the tall entrance. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears. Madam Pomfrey gave the man a disapproving glare before leaving them alone to talk.

“It’s – all – my – ruddy – fault!” the man sobbed, his face in his hands. “I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn’t know, an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died! All fer a dragon egg! I’ll never drink again! I should be chucked out an’ made ter live as a Muggle!”

“Hagrid!” Harry gasped, both he and Edward shocked to see the giant shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard.

“For God’s sake, pull yourself together, man!” Edward huffed.

“Hagrid, he’d have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we’re talking about, he’d have found out even if you hadn’t told him,” Harry said to placate his friend.

“Yeh could’ve died!” sobbed Hagrid. “An’ don’ say the name!”

“VOLDEMORT!” Harry bellowed, causing Edward to snicker because Hagrid was so shocked he had stopped crying. “I’ve met him and I’m calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the stone, Edward destroyed it, and he can’t use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I’ve got loads…”

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, “That reminds me. I’ve got yeh a present.”

“It’s not a stoat sandwich, is it?” Harry asked anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. 

“Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ‘Course, he shoulda sacked me instead – anyway, got yeh this…”

It was a handsome, leather-covered book. Curious, Edward sat down next to Harry on the boy’s cot and watched as he opened it. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at them from every page was a man with crazy black hair and glasses and a beautiful redhead with bright green eyes: Harry’s parents.

“Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos…knew yeh didn’ have any…d’yeh like it?”

Harry apparently couldn’t speak. Hagrid shot Edward a worried look, but the blond just shook his head and smile reassuringly at him.

 

Finally after much arguing with Madam Pomfrey, who’d insisted on giving Harry one last check up before they left, Harry and Edward were on their way to the end-of-year feast that night. When they arrived the Great Hall was already full and it appeared that only Dumbledore himself wasn’t present yet. The place was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin’s winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When they walked in, there was a sudden hush, and then everyone started talking loudly at once.

“Yeesh,” Edward scoffed. “It’s like they’ve never seen celebrities before.”

Harry snorted and then slipped away into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table while Edward made his way up to the High Table where the only available seat open was next to Snape where Quirrell had previously sat. Snape offered him a small smile and nod in greeting. Not even a second after Edward had taken his seat, Dumbledore arrived and the babble died away.

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts… Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Snape smiled with amusement at his house’s antics, clapping politely along with them and those at the staff table.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

The room went very still and the Slytherins’ smiles faded a little. Even Snape looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, but looked resigned.

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley…”

Edward grinned and saw the boy’s face go bright red then purple, he was blushing so hard.

“…for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”

The cheers from Gryffindor were nearly deafening, shaking the candles overhead and making the stars in the bewitched sky look like they were quivering. Edward could only just hear the eldest Weasley boy proudly shouting, “My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!”

Edward snickered and raised an eyebrow at McGonagall who was sitting on Snape’s other side. The woman huffed, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t keep her pleased smile off her face.

At last there was silence again.

“Second – to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”

Gryffindor table erupted into violent cheers again and Edward couldn’t see Hermione, but figured she was hunkered down in embarrassment.

“I  _ told _ you she’d figure out your potion logic puzzle,” Edward told Snape smugly.

“Oh hush up,” Snape scowled.

“Third – to Mr. Harry Potter,” Dumbledore called out and the room went deathly quiet. “…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.”

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse – like Edward himself – knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points – exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup.

Dumbledore raised his hand and the room gradually fell silent again.

“There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but it takes a great deal more to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”

Edward had to cover his ears as the entire hall minus the Slytherin table erupted with screams and cheers. Edward laughed gleefully when he saw poor Neville’s shocked white face disappear under a pile of people hugging him.

“Which means,” Dumbledore managed to call out over the storm of applause, “we need a little change of decoration.”

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took it’s place. Edward smiled widely as he watched Snape turn and gave McGonagall’s hand a congratulatory shake. He was smiling bitterly and yet resignedly in the face of McGonagall’s proud and smug grin.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore called out. “Before we start feasting, there is one more acknowledgement that I would like to make.”

The hall quieted down after that. Who else was he going to give points to?

“The next individual I’d like to recognize sadly isn’t someone I can award house points to.” Dumbledore smiled before turning his gaze on Edward. “Professor Edward Elric, from the moment I met you, one whole year ago to the day next week on Tuesday, I knew you were an exceptional young man. In two months you met my exceedingly high expectations and learned enough magic to pass Ministry standards to teach here. Just last week, you once again passed their evaluations, and re-earned your spot on our teaching staff. I’d like to offer you an official position, but due to your age I cannot yet offer you a full time job until after next year. However, due to recent events and the whole hearted consensus of the entire staff, as a reward for your bravery in the dungeons and the determination shown to keep our students safe, on behalf of the entire staff, we’d like to send you on a summer trip to Germany. It’s not much, but it’s all that we can offer, aside from our respect and gratitude and hope that you’ll stay on with us for many years to come as a valued co-worker.”

Edward tried to swallow around the lump that was suddenly lodged in his throat as the Great Hall burst into cheers and applause again. He could hear Harry and Ron and Hermione and Neville hoot and holler and the Weasley twins whistle shrilly.

Edward couldn’t find the words to say in return so he only offered Dumbledore a smile and bowed his head low in thanks. Snape patted him on the back and McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick beamed at him happily, pleased that they’d managed to render him speechless. Edward was grateful for the feast that showed up a minute later and dug in heartily.

 

After all the festivities of the night were over, Edward found himself shut away in his office for the remainder of the last week like most of the staff, trying to grade all of the written finals. A lot had fallen to him with Quirrell’s passing. Thankfully, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and even Snape pitched in to help. Grades were then tallied, given out, and Edward held a small celebratory party in his office with Harry, Ron and Hermione the last night the students would be at Hogwarts. Edward couldn’t believe that the year was already over.

The next morning he saw the trio off onto their train and watched the engine roll out of sight. The castle felt eerily empty now that it wasn’t full of students. He found himself wandering the corridors before making his way back to his office. He knew that he should be taking this opportunity to continue his research for a way home, but after the last week, he felt that he deserved a bit of a break. 

He spent the day talking to some of his fellow staff members and wished most of them a happy summer as many of them were preparing to leave for their summer homes. Snape was one of the first to leave, and Flitwick and Sprout left soon after, all of them wishing him a good summer, made him promise to write, and hoped that he enjoyed his trip to Germany. By the end of the week only Edward, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Filch, Hagrid, Trelawney, and a couple of the other Professors were left in the castle. Apparently some like Trelawney lived in the castle year round. Edward still couldn’t stand the woman much, but found her company to be more bearable now that he’d survived his first year at Hogwarts and she’d stopped predicting his failure.

Things settled down at the castle much like they had been when Edward had first come to stay there, only now there wasn’t the pressing deadline of meeting Ministry requirements. Edward easily breezed through the remaining seventh year materials he hadn’t managed to study last summer, and found himself sitting in his quarters that first weekend of the summer wondering what he should aim towards next. This world was starting to feel like home. Even though he still missed his brother and friends terribly, he found he wasn’t in such a hurry to get back anymore. Maybe he should just sit back and enjoy what this world had to offer. Who knows? Maybe those from his old life might find a way into his new one.

* * *

Epilogue

 

Edward was just completing his usual morning exercise routine when he saw Minerva McGonagall make her way over towards him.

“Morning,” he said with a nod.

“Good Morning, Edward,” McGonagall nodded back in greeting.

“Leaving today, I see?” he asked, taking in her casual attire. She was dressed in a thin and light emerald-green robe and her hair was out of its strict bun for once, flowing behind her in the morning breeze.

“I am.” She smiled. “I just wanted to wish you a good summer.”

“Don’t know why you’re bothering. We’ll see each other again in a couple of weeks.” Edward shrugged. “You’re only going to visit some of your family in England, right?”

“Yes, but you’re going to Germany for that trip of yours soon, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I suppose,” Edward said. “Haven’t exactly picked a date for when to go or have decided how long I’ll stay.”

“Well, be that as it may, I wish you a safe visit home, Edward,” McGonagall said.

“You too.” Edward smiled back.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said in that way Edward knew that she hadn’t really forgotten, “Dumbledore would like you to come up to his office at your earliest convenience.” 

Edward raised his eyebrows at her in question, but she only smiled, turned on her heel, and left. He watched her retreat to the castle and after a few more stretches, he followed her example. He took a quick shower and changed before making his way up to the headmaster’s office. When he got there, however, no one was there.

“Hello?” he called out. “Dumbledore? Minerva said you wanted to speak with me?”

No answer. Edward was just about to leave when an old man dressed in ornate robes came out from one of the office’s adjoining rooms. He looked positively ancient; his skin the pale color of parchment, wrinkled and aged. Long snow white hair cascaded down his back and over his shoulders, and his eyes were a startling electric white-blue, like lighting.

“Mr. Edward Elric, I presume?” the man asked in a soft, yet firm voice.

“And you are…?” Edward frowned.

“Nickolas Flamel,” the man said, blowing minutely.

Edward swore he could hear bones creak under the strain the action caused. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Honestly, sir, I’m not sure whether I should be honored to meet you, or angry for what you allowed to happen here.”

“Ah, Albus did warn me that you might not take kindly to meeting me,” the old man chuckled.

“It’s nothing against you personally.” Edward frowned.

“Now, that, my dear boy, is a lie,” Flamel sighed.

“Not really.” Edward shrugged. “Just when it comes to the stone.”

“Ah, yes, the one you destroyed.”

“The one you allowed to continue existing.”

The ancient man shrugged his thin, bony shoulders.

“What do you want, sir?” Edward asked, eyes narrowed.

“To apologize,” Flamel said. “It was wrong of me to keep the stone. The moment I learned that unseemly persons were aware of its existence and after it, I should have destroyed it, not pass it on to Albus. My wife and I have come to terms with its demise and have a little over three months worth of life left. By the time autumn is in motion, and the leaves begin to turn, we will die. But before that, I wish to make amends. I’ve already spoken to Albus, and he has informed me of your plight. You are not from this world, are you? You are Dr. Licht’s son. His eldest, I believe.”

“I’ll ask you again, Mr. Flamel. What. Do. You. Want?” Edward growled. Damn Dumbledore and his nosy crooked nose.

“Do you wish to find your father?” Flamel countered.

Edward froze, his body going rigid with tension.

“…You know where he is?” he asked.

“I do. Or, at least, I know where he’ll be in one month’s time,” Flamel said. “I hear you have yet to decide when to take a trip to Germany that your fellow staff members have gifted you with. Might I suggest a time and location? You are more than welcome to stay at the summer home that my wife and I are going to be spending the last of our days in. I’m sure you’ll find the trip… most enlightening.”

~End~


End file.
